


drape your arms around me

by fujibutts



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (but potentially endgame iwaoidaisuga), Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Dissociation, Festivals, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, One-sided Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Pining, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Relationships, Self-Harm, Underage Drinking, endgame iwaoi and daisuga, well more like Accidental/Unintentional Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fujibutts/pseuds/fujibutts
Summary: A simple story of the friendship between two setters, their crushes, and insecurities.Ch.1Suga turns back away from the other boy and glares at the towel he had dropped earlier, determined not to engage him any further.“Is he straight, or dense?”Against his better judgement, Suga shrugs.“I hope for your sake it’s not both.”Suga turns his head the slightest bit to look at Oikawa. He’s looking in the same direction Suga was earlier. “You?” he asks.“Both.”Well now he’s invested. “That's rough, buddy."Ch. 10Daichi has every right to know why he’s practicing volleyball with a member of a rival team. Especially since Oikawa is literally the captain of a school that they’re likely to face off against next month. He can’t tell him the whole story. He shouldn’t. But lying to Daichi right now after he just promised… He doesn’t know what’s worse.If only he was more talented; more humble. Or both. Jealousy rises like bile in his throat. The aftertaste of coffee rots at the back of his tongue and he reflexively takes another sip. It tastes like shit. “Oikawa’s my friend,” he forces himself to look up and shrug nonchalantly.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru & Sugawara Koushi, Oikawa Tooru/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi, One-sided Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru - Relationship, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Original Female Character, minor Sugawara Koushi/Original Male Character
Comments: 256
Kudos: 432





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My triumphant return to fanfic after getting a degree in writing fanfic. The only reason I wrote this is bc it's been bouncing around in my head and I kept wanting to read a fic like this but kept remembering that I was the only one who could write it the way I wanted to. And now we're here.
> 
> Maybe it won't take me six years to update this.

It starts with an ice-cold water bottle pressed against the back of his neck.

Suga starts, dropping the towel he had been using to wipe at his hairline and whipping around to see Oikawa Tooru crouching behind him with a cocky smirk, still holding his water bottle out.

Scrunching his brows with suspicion, Suga gingerly takes the bottle and takes a sip. “Thanks,” he breathes once he’s taken his fill, and hands it back to its owner. His water bottle had been just out of reach from where he dropped when the coaches called for a break. Oikawa smiles and nods; he stays quiet long enough for Suga’s gaze to wander back to where Daichi is shoulder to shoulder with Seijou’s vice-captain, looking at the notebook Kiyoko usually carries.

Oikawa shifts beside him, and Suga shoots him a glance, “Shouldn’t you be the one talking to our captain?”

He shrugs. “Iwa’s a lot better at talking team strategy with outsiders than I am- says I’m too competitive to have a productive conversation, or something.

“Then why are you here and not with the rest of your team?” Suga asks with a snort, resigning himself to being subjected to whatever inane conversation Oikawa wanted to drag him into for the whole break, instead of actually relaxing.

Suga feels more than heads Oikawa move behind him. “Because,” he shivers at the sudden puff of hot air by his ear, “I saw the way you look at him.”

That makes him jump to face Oikawa head on. “Wha- wha-“

Oikawa only raises an eyebrow and takes another long pull from his water bottle. “It’s the same. You look at him the same way I catch myself looking at Iwa-chan.”

Suga turns back away from the other boy and glares at the towel he had dropped earlier, determined not to engage him any further.

“Is he straight, or dense?”

Against his better judgement, Suga shrugs.

“I hope for your sake it’s not both.”

Suga turns his head the slightest bit to look at Oikawa. He’s looking in the same direction Suga was earlier. “You?” he asks.

“Both.”

Well now he’s invested. “That’s rough, buddy.”

“Anyone know?” he hears the swish of water and a wet gulp from behind him, and Suga takes the time to think about his answer. There’s really no going back if he keeps talking to Oikawa about this.

Eventually he turns properly, leaning a shoulder against the wall of the gymnasium so he can face Oikawa head on. “Just Asahi, but he’s known since day one. Maybe Noya?”

Oikawa mirrors him and hums. He shuts his eyes for a moment, breathing a tired sigh before giving his answer, “Mattsun and Makki had been telling me to confess since the end of last year, kept saying there wasn’t much time left, or whatever. But since the beginning of term he’s been hanging out with some girl and now they won’t stop looking at me weird.”

Suga can’t help the let the giggle bubbling up in his throat out, “Oh man, why is there always a girl?”

“Straight people, am I right?”

At that, Suga lets out a snort, “And I thought my love life was fucked!”

“Hey!” Oikawa pouts and sticks his tongue out at Suga, which only makes him laugh more. “Aren’t you supposed to be Mr. Nice Guy? Mister Always-Refreshing?

He bumps Oikawa’s foot with his own and leaves a scruff on the white surface, but he’s looking towards center-court again, where Daichi and Iwaizumi are still standing. Suga sighs and lightly kicks him again, to get his attention. “I am,” he starts, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t make jokes with someone in the same situation as I am.”

Oikawa finally rips his eyes away from the two to look at Suga. “It’s nice to talk about this stuff, isn’t it? Hurting together? Commiserating, and all that?”

Suga shrugs and shoots him a smile. “You know, you’re not as bad as they say you are.” No backing out now.

Oikawa Tooru   
  
**Oikawa:** ☆⌒ (･ω<)  
  
**Suga:** I’m going to regret this aren’t I?  
  
**Oikawa:** (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡  
  
**Suga:** I already regrey this.  
  
**Oikawa:** oh nooo!!!  
  
**Oikawa:** don’t go!!!   
  
**Suga:** Oh look, it knows how to type.  
  
**Oikawa:** You know ur a lot sassier than I thought u were  
  
**Suga:** And you’re a just as annoying as Kageyama told me.  
  
**Oikawa:** Ugh we don’t say that name in this house.  
  
**Suga:** You talking shit about my kouhai?  
  
**Oikawa:** shh don’t worry abou tit  
  
**Oikawa:** haha tit  
  
**Suga:** Oh my fucking god.  
  


Oikawa ☆⌒ (･ω<)  
  
**Oikawa:** https://open.spotify.com/playlist/ 6iIx2QFcSsZckpDpqoKyCI  
  
**Suga:** hey um what the fuck?  
  
**Oikawa:** me rn  
  
**Suga:** You’re not wrong.  
  
**Suga:** But like can u stop being honry during practice???  
  
**Oikawa:** honry  
  
**Oikawa:** I can’t stop tho!!  
  
**Oikawa:** Iwa-chan just squirted his water bottle  
  
**Oikawa:** ALL OVER HIMSELF  
  
**Oikawa:** AND NOW HE’S  
  
**Oikawa:** SW E A T Y N WET  
  
**Oikawa:** („ಡωಡ„)  
  
**Suga:**??? how do you find kaomojis so fast??  
  
**Oikawa:** There’s an app for that!  
  


Oikawa ☆⌒ (･ω<)  
  
**Oikawa:** Hey, I know we’re probably going to end up playng each other…  
  
**Suga:** Nothing personal?  
  
**Oikawa:** Nope.  
  
**Oikawa:** See u on the other side  
  
**Suga:** l8r sk8r  
  
**Oikawa:** luv u too sk8r boi  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao tell me why ive spent so long fact-checking my 2012 media like they would watch the lorax. also in case u haven't noticed the links are all real & time accurate
> 
> also mood shift lol

Suga-chan   
  
**Oikawa:** hey  
  
**Oikawa:** sorry.  
  
**Suga:** sucks  
  
**Suga:** That's high school sports for you  
  
**Suga:** *shrug kaomoji*  
  
**Oikawa:** It’s not over yet tho.  
  
**Oikawa:** unless..?  
  
**Suga:** If you’re implying what I think you’re implying...  
  
**Oikawa:** You can’t blame me for asking!  
  
**Suga:** I’m fucking staying.  
  
**Suga:** Who else would take care of my horrible kouhai if I wasn’t there?  
  
**Oikawa:** Tru  
  
**Oikawa:** god knows tobs still needs a positive setter role model   
  
**Suga:** jesus I always forget you were an asshole in jr high  
  
**Suga:** He's weird but sweet  
  
**Oikawa:** *shrug kaomoji*  
  
**Suga:** I still don’t get how we’re friends  


  


Suga-chan   
  
**Suga:** Goin Tokyo next month  
  
**Oikawa:** sick bro   
  
**Oikawa:** take a pic of the sky tree for me  
  
**Oikawa:** I’ll be here  
  
**Oikawa:** stuck playing practice games against Shrtrzw’s B-team  
  
**Oikawa:** n the mess that is Johzenji’s vball club  
  
**Oikawa:** (*´∇`)┌θ☆(ﾉ>_<)ﾉ  
  
**Suga:** Isn’t it harder to type Shrtrzw than if u just typed the whole name?  
  
**Oikawa:** I set an autocorrect for it  
  


  
  


Taking a deep breath, Oikawa shuts his eyes against the searing orange of the sunset sunset trying to burn itself onto his bedroom walls. It's nearing seven PM and he hasn't moved since he first got home and collapsed onto his bed upon arriving home, sweaty practice clothes be damned. He's not upset, he swears. Iwaizumi had told him that he wasn’t going to be able to go to the movies with him last week, and he's had all week to convince himself that he was fine; to make other plans, or to find other things to do. Instead, he faked an apology to Matsukawa and Hanamaki at lunch today, only three of them since Iwaizumi started spending every other lunch with his girlfriend once they became official last month, and asked for a rain check.

Practice ended early, he stayed behind to practice a hundred extra serves while Iwaizumi jogged home to get ready for his date, after which he walked home alone. He was planning on wallowing in his own heartache, (to read some sad Madoka Magica or Evangelion fanfiction where happy endings don't exist) just so he could feel his stomach sink and feel the tightness in his chest pulse to make himself feel worse, but then he remembers his texting buddy.

He and Sugawara had kept in touch since their practice match at the beginning of the year. Oikawa has patted himself on the back multiple times for making such a great new friend. They exchanged texts at least once a day, sending video links, stories about their days, or just simple hellos. A few times already they’ve video chatted to practice a speech or run through a homework assignment; but up until 10 minutes ago, they had never made plans to meet up outside of the occasional joint-practices between their schools.

Suga-chan   
  
**Oikawa:** sad  
  
**Oikawa:** y  
  
**Oikawa:** iwa-chan’s “official 1 month anniversary” is tonight   
  
**Oikawa:** we were gonna see Men in Black 3 then he was gonna sleep over so I could get some of that sweet sweet platonic hetero man-on-man skinship   
  
**Suga:** first of all don’t ever say tht word to me ever again   
  
**Suga:** ugh sounds like youre' gonna eat him alive or smth  
  
**Oikawa:** (っ˘ڡ˘ς) ♨   
  
**Suga:** secondly id rather see the the lorax   
  
**Suga:** I saw a lot of porn about the main guy and I wanna see what it’s about   
  
**Oikawa:** C= C= C= C=┌( `ー´)┘   


Despite the ache, he drags himself to the bathroom to get ready. He still has half an hour until the time they agreed to meet, so he primps: teases his hair, adds a generous swipe of highlighter to the tops of his cheeks and some gloss to his lips, to take as much attention away as possible, from the hollows under his eyes and the exhausted tremor of his hands. Still, he wants to take it easy tonight, so he puts on a simple outfit, to avoid any excessive attention. He settles on a jeans-and-tee combo and, since he has absolutely no self-control, a sweatshirt that Iwaizumi left at his house last term and has been using as emergency-pajamas ever since. It still smells like him, from when he slept over last month before midterms.

He waves goodbye to his parents, preparing for a date night, and yells, “Taking the moped!” before the door slams shut behind him.

The moped was his brother’s when he was in college. Toshio spent a semester abroad in France and was suddenly obsessed with mopeds. He left it behind though, after he moved out, so it was all for the taking.

It serves him well, Oikawa thinks, as he zooms down streets and up a few hills to the mall where the movie theatre is. Despite it being a Saturday, it isn’t hard to spot Sugawara standing by the entrance, distracted by something on his phone.

Oikawa takes his time locking up his helmet under the seat, checks his phone, and lets himself breathe a sigh of relief when he sees that he’s still got a minute to spare. He manages three deep, clenched-fist, in-and-out breaths, before the wobbling of his bottom lip gets too distracting. He digs dull, manicured nails into his palm for a second, before finally crossing the parking lot.

Sugawara sees him approach and meets him halfway, waggling the ticket stubs at him. “Ready to see some sexy, sexy cartoons?”

Immediately, the weight in his chest lightens. Thank fucking god he sent that text. The heaviness of the thought of Iwaizumi going on a date for his anniversary with some girl whose name Oikawa refuses to learn disappears, and is replaced by a sudden nervousness. A light flutter in his stomach that almost feels like back when Fuji-senpai, the main setter at Aoba Jousai when he was a first year, would smile at him when they passed each other in the halls.

Sugawara has a similar vibe to him, calm but not stagnant, always adjusting to the mood of the situation and subtly nudging everyone around him towards a calmer state. He isn’t boring by any means, but he feels safe; and Oikawa feels anxious at the thought of losing out on the possibility of what their friendship could bring.

The two boys walk side by side into the theatre. “Somehow this feels like a first date, Suga-chan,” Oikawa quips, winking at Sugawara.

Sugawara snorts and hands him a ticket stub. “If this was a date, I would have made you pay for these.” Oikawa smiles at him and takes the ticket. “Snacks are on you, pretty boy.”

The movie… went.

“When he _crawled_ on top of the table-“

“Why was that _so_ horny?

They wait until they’re outside the building until they break out into laughter, at least, but they just egg each other on, choking out half-baked quotes from the movie they had just watched until their Oikawa’s stomach aches with a good kind of tiredness.

Suga walks with him to his moped and almost immediately breaks out into laughter again. “It’s… It’s so _cute_!” he gushes over the vehicle’s quaint black wire basket bolted to the front.

Oikawa ignores the growing flush on his face and opens the seat compartment to pull out two helmets. “It’s getting late; if you know the way from here, I can drive you home.” He hands one to Suga who eyes it suspiciously. After a moment of stillness, he relents: “It’s my older brother’s. He said if I fixed it up, I could have it for my sixteenth. I’ve had my license since then. Perfect record I promise!”

It isn’t until he clamps his hands together and gets into Suga's face with his bottom lip jutting out, eyes extra wide and shiny, that he relents. Suga clips on the helmet and gets onto the bike with Oikawa’s help.

He hears a muttered, “If I die, I’ll kill you,” before he revs the motor once and speeds out onto the main road, late evening air stinging his cheeks.

Suga-chan   
  
**Oikawa:** https://archiveofourown.org/ works/432012  
  
**Oikawa:** accordin g to this website there are 10 fanfictions about the green onceler fucking the grey onceler  
  
**Suga:** stop it  
**Oikawa:** now it’s just a waiting game to see if this ship takes off, and people start writing fanfiction about it.  
  
**Suga:** I’m going to sue you.  
**Oikawa:** you were the one who made me watch it  
  
**Oikawa:** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone validate my literal actual degree in writing fanfiction and tell me that my subtle characterization by having suga be referred to as sugawara and eventually suga, and iwa as iwa-chan or iwaizumi depending on oiks’ mood idk


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u tell ive been reading too many hq doujinshi? I couldn’t help but put a festival scene... but that’s coming tomorrow. today: prep & angst!  
> [suga inspo](https://imgur.com/a/JSK89)  
> [oikawa inspo](https://worldcosplay.net/en/photo/5911745)

He guesses that by finally taking the time to meet in person, they've broken some sort of seal. For the rest of the term, they video chat regularly and even go out on the weekends. They send each other good-luck texts on the morning of their respective final exam days and promise to meet up at some point during break. It’s a lot less lonely now, Oikawa thinks.

Suga only texts late at night while he’s in Tokyo for Summer training camp with the Fukurodani group. Oikawa doesn’t want to admit how jealous he is that Karasuno was able to snag a spot at that exclusive training camp, so he stays behind an extra half hour after practice, give or take. They're on summer vacation anyway, and it’s not like Iwa-chan waits for him after practice every night anymore.

Suga-chan   
  
**Today** , 15:07  
**Oikawa:** Suga-chaaaaan it’s so boring when you’re away all day  
  
**Oikawa:** Have you watched Madoka? I think you’d really like it!  
  
16:23  
**Oikawa:** Ughhhh don’t you gyus get breaks??  
  
**Today** , 20:08  
**Suga:** Oikawa I swear to god  
  
**Suga:** I keep my phone in the room since u know  
  
**Suga:** WERE PLATING VOLLEYBALL  
  
**Oikawa:** plating  
  
**Suga:** I know where you live  
  
**Suga:** Anyway stop watching sad anime  
  
**Suga:** Watch Tsuritama. it ran pretty recently and it’s cute af  
  
  
**Suga:** and it has aliens  
  
**Oikawa:** (≖ ͜ʖ≖)  


  


* * *

Oikawa ☆⌒ (･ω<)  
  
**Suga:** So what’s our plan for the festival this weekend?  
  
**Oikawa:** What makes you think that I don’t already have plants?  
  
**Suga:** plants  
  
**Suga:** bc I’m willing to bet that you’re in the situation as I am  
  
**Oikawa:** (•ิ_•ิ)?  
  
**Suga:** Yui asked Daichi if he wanted to go with her to the festival  
  
**Suga:** 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。  
  
**Suga:** (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ  
  
**Oikawa:** Aw Suga-chan even your kaomojis are cute  
  
**Oikawa:** (つ . •́ _ʖ •̀ .)つ  
  
**Oikawa:** fine we’ll go together and get all dressed up and you can do what I do!!!  
  
**Suga:** I’m afraid to ask what tat means  
  
**Oikawa:** We can forget all about our crippling heartache by burying ourselves in the shallow praise of strangers!  
  
**Suga:** (｡╯︵╰｡)  
  
**Oikawa:** I’ll buy you all of the extra spicy Takoyaki you want from that one stall  
  
**Oikawa:** u know the one, with the spicy tkyk challenge?  
  
**Suga:** o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o ♨  
  


When Oikawa shows up at his house straddling his damned moped, Suga can’t help but smile. In the early afternoon light, Oikawa still looks as effortlessly stylish as ever, despite his scooter helmet-and-goggles combo. Suga waves goodbye to his parents and jogs down to Oikawa, shoving him off the leather seat and lifting it so he can put the bag holding his yukata inside for safekeeping.

“You’re not gonna show me your yukata, Suga-chan?”

Suga rolls his eyes and clicks the seat into place. He hops on and scoots back far enough so that Oikawa has space to sit between his legs. “It’s a surprise,” he says with a wink.

Oikawa shrugs and revs the engine. In the past few weeks, the ride to Oikawa’s house has become more and more familiar. Ten minutes later, they arrive at the Oikawa household. Suga greets Oikawa’s parents, and elbows his friend when he mumbles something about how his parents are too old to be acting like horny teenagers when they walk in on them kissing in the living room. “It’s very heartwarming, Oikawa-san,” Suga hurriedly says with a bow, “to see that you're both still so passionately in love after all these years.”

Oikawa’s mom gives him a hug for that, and Oikawa’s dad blushes quietly as he excuses himself to the kitchen. He’s been over a few times in the past month, and from what he can tell, Oikawa’s dad likes him well enough, while Oikawa’s mom absolutely adores him, always praising him for his politeness while making teasing remarks at her son’s “unrefined” behavior.

The two boys bound up the stairs to Oikawa’s room, and Suga almost drops the cloth bag carrying his yukata at the sight of Oikawa’s, hanging up on the back of the door. He can’t help but reach a hand out to touch it. It’s soft, is the first thing he thinks. It's also bluer than Seijou’s colors, but still a light, almost pastel tone, decorated liberally with contrasting pink camellias, and with a maroon obi hanging next to it.

“You like?”

Suga jumps at the unexpected puff of air by his ear, glaring at Oikawa before relaxing and leaning against him. “You’re so fucking extravagant,” he sighs.

It doesn’t surprise him when a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind and a sharp chin digs into his shoulder. He learned quickly after they first met up at the movies that Oikawa was a naturally physically affectionate person. At first Suga didn’t mind, but after a few hugs and instances where Oikawa has fallen asleep on his lap, he’s come to enjoy the contact. He never realized before how good hugging his friends felt. He’s even noticed himself becoming more affectionate to his teammates during practice, even letting himself drape an arm around Daichi’s shoulders after particularly draining days, when he can write it off as him being too lazy to stay upright on his own.

Oikawa squirms against him, trying to use the ten centimeters of height he has over Suga to grab at the bag he is still holding. “Let me _seeeeee!_ ”

With a sigh, Suga relents. He hands the bag to Oikawa and walks to the bed, grabbing a pillow and making himself comfortable. “I’m going to look so plain compared to you!” He hugs the pillow close and buries his face in it, suddenly overcome by the growing pit in his stomach. It’s not that he feels like he’s _less than_ or anything, but… isn’t that it?

He always says that his dependability is his greatest weapon, but in quiet moments like this, when his volleyball career isn't on the line, his throat feels heavy and he wants nothing else but to draw back from the action. Isn’t being dependable just another way of saying that he’s always going to be the one supporting the changemakers from the background? Cheering on Kageyama from the bench, pushing Daichi towards Michimiya whenever she visits their classroom… hell, even tonight he’s just going to be making Oikawa look good, even though going to the festival was originally his idea.

He’s nothing but a secondary character in his own damn life.

Then something brushes against his hand and he lifts his head. Oikawa is there, holding two maroon obis, with a hopeful smile on his face. “We don’t have to go if you’re not feeling well…” again, he nudges the strip of fabric against Suga’s hand, “but wouldn’t it be cute if we wore matching obis?”

When Oikawa asks later, Suga will deny the tears that spring to his eyes as he nods, but he appreciates the enthusiastic tackle-hug-turned-tickle-fight that comes next. He and Oikawa lay side by side, breathless on the bed and Suga whispers, “Thank you.”

He can see Oikawa smile at him out of the corner of his eye before suddenly he’s being pulled up and off the bed. “Now that you’re not down in the dumps anymore...” he starts pushing Suga toward door, “we’re going to make sure that no one is going to be able to keep their eyes off of you tonight.”

They hang up his yukata, a little disheveled from being squished in the seat compartment on the ride over, on the door alongside Oikawa’s. The gap between the two isn’t as bad as he thought it would be, but the plain beige with simple maroon stripes speaks for itself. Thankfully, Oikawa notices his returning discomfort and tries to break the tension. He explains that his yukata was another hand-me-down from his older brother, and mumbles something about borrowing his dad’s handheld steamer to make sure Suga’s yukata is wrinkle free, and something else about makeup. The mindless babbling continues until Suga feels like he can finally breathe again. Oikawa shoots him a reassuring smile that he returns- until he sees the glint in Oikawa’s eye as he twists the door knob.

“Tomoe!” Oikawa shouts before he’s fully out of the room. Unsure of what to do, Suga follows him out to the room next to his. “Tomoe!” he shouts again, opening the door without knocking. “I need your help!”

Suga stays standing outside the door, not wanting to intrude. He’s only met Oikawa Tomoe in passing before, but he knows that she’s a force to be reckoned with, if the bow and quiver poking out of the bag in the corner of her room have anything to say about it.

The woman in question turns to stare at the two of them. “What do you want, little brother? Can’t you see I’m busy?” She gestures to the screen behind her frozen on some anime, and to her face which is smeared in a chunky green cream that Suga feels a little nauseous just looking at.

Taking this as an invitation, the younger Oikawa makes his way further into the room, “I want Suga-chan to look pretty tonight but I can only do highlighter and lip gloss. Can you do blush and eyeliner on him or something?” A pause. “ _Pleeeeease_? For your favorite little brother?”

“You’re my only little brother, moron...” Tomoe grumbles as she un-pauses her show.

Oikawa frowns and stomps his foot, “You told mom you came home to look for jobs! If you don't help meI’ll tell her you’re just watching anime again!”

Suga sighs at his friend. With his brother so much older and his sister usually away at college, he often forgets that Oikawa is really the baby in his family. But the whining and blackmail seem to work because Tomoe pauses the show once more and gets up from her seat. “Tooru, shut your damn mouth. Suga-kun, get in here before I change my mind.”

“Don’t worry Suga-chan,” Oikawa says, pushing him down to sit on Tomoe’s bed, “it’ll be dark by the time we get there, so the makeup won’t look super noticeable, but you’ll be absolutely glowing!”

Suga hums and takes his friend’s word for it. For the next god knows how long, Suga is assaulted with brushes, powders, goop of some kind… so he just closes his eyes and lets it happen. He tries not to flinch when he feels something touch his eye, and keeps his mouth shut as the siblings discuss what else to do with his face.

When both Oikawas finally come to a consensus, he’s finally allowed to open his eyes, and is greeted with a mirror. “Um.”

Tomoe smirks as she gathers her brushes and begins walking out of the room. “Mama did good, didn’t she?”

Suga stares at his reflection, barely registering Oikawa following his sister out of the room while complaining about how he hasn’t had his turn yet.

The makeup is less subtle than he expected, but he’s never really worn it before outside of the one time he was in the school play. There’s a deep blush on his upper cheeks, extending from beneath his eyes to just below the peaks of his cheekbones. His lips feel heavy with a similarly colored tint of some kind, but they don’t feel tacky like the many cheek kisses Oikawa has subjected him to while he was wearing gloss. If he looks closely enough there’s a subtle point peeking out at the corners of his eyes, making them look slightly downturned. That was probably what he felt poking him earlier.

With a renewed confidence, he marches to the bathroom, where Tomoe stands at the sink attempting to clean her brushes and argue with her brother at the same time. He takes a breath and bows deeply. “Tomoe-neesan, thank you for doing this! I promise I won’t let it go to waste!”

The two siblings stop bickering instantly, and after a long moment with only the running of the sink breaking the silence, he feels Tomoe’s hand on his shoulder. Timidly, he straightens, and she pats him on the cheek. “I’d hug you, but I saw how icked out you got when you saw my face mask. Knock ‘em dead tonight.” With that, she turns off the sink, flicking her still wet brushes at her brother, and walks about of the bathroom. The two boys stare at her retreating figure, only the slamming of her door knocking them out of their trance.

“Your sister is scary.”

Oikawa sighs in agreement, before planting his hands on Suga’s shoulders, shaking him a bit with excitement. “Okay, now that you’re all dolled up, it’s time to get dressed!”

He produces a handheld steamer from somewhere and starts running it over Suga’s yukata. To him, it still looks so plain compared to Oikawa’s, but the care that Oikawa takes to make sure every wrinkle is gone makes the sting of it go away. Who cares if his yukata isn’t as ornate as Oikawa’s? He still looks good in it, and he’s going to make Daichi wish he went with him instead of Michimiya.

It takes barely any time after that for them to finish getting ready. Despite his whining, Oikawa is actually decent at doing his own makeup. He goes for a similar pink-themed look, but everything is a little bit shinier and sharper compared to Suga’s soft look. His eyeliner is subtle but angled higher, his lips are pink and shiny from the gloss, and he adds a shimmery powder to his cheeks on top of the blush, making his face look more angular than Suga’s.

They each get dressed, he helps Oikawa with his obi (because of course he needs help), and then he’s back on Oikawa’s moped, puttering off to the shrine where the first festival of the season is being held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im maintaining my stance that tsuritama is the best anime to come out of 2012.
> 
> anyway I’m taking bets on how long I can keep this up lmao (throwback to [Cause a Scene](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143647/chapters/4683174)) that hasn’t updated since NOVEMBER 2014 I PROMISE I’M WORKING ON IT BUT MY OUTLINE DOESN’T MAKE SENSE ANYMORE SINCE IT’S BEEN SO LONG SO I HAVE TO START FROM SCRATCH


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me last chapter: but that’s coming tomorrow  
> also me: bUt ThAt’S cOmInG tOmOrRoW (spoiler it's literally still not here)  
>   
> SEE THIS IS WHY I DON'T SAY WHEN I'M GONG TO UPDATE NEXT I COMPLETELY JINXED MYSELF!!  
>   
> Here's the [suga inspo](https://imgur.com/a/JSK89) and [oikawa inspo](https://worldcosplay.net/en/photo/5911745) again. also [this](https://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/103748443887/i-need-a-haikyuu-wiki-that-documents-what-every) is a fucking godsend  
> 

It might have been his hunger-induced tunnel vision leading him straight to the Takoyaki stall at the far end of the festival, but Suga doesn’t feel the weight of being watched until Oikawa points it out.

Using the fan he brought (it had the same pattern his goddamn yukata, because of course he had a matching fan) to obscure their faces he murmurs, “Oh my, Suga-chan, it looks like we’ve gained a bit of a following!”

Suga follows his gaze to a huddle of girls, probably first or second years, by the looks of it, sneaking glances at them. “Huh. You’re right. Does this happen to you a lot?” He makes eye contact with one of them, and the poor girl promptly drops the cotton candy she was holding. He smiles apologetically and another girl beside her drops her yakitori.

“So what do you want to do?” Oikawa asks, already bouncing with anticipation. “Maybe scoop some goldfish? Or shoot the cork guns?”

He hums, not really sure what to do. Usually he spends festivals following his friends from stall to stall, keeping an eye on whoever the team’s troublemakers are that year. It’s different when he’s just with one person. Suga turns in a slow circle, eyeing the nearby stalls looking for something to catch his eye. “You decide,” he settles. “I want to try scooping for goldfish later, but I want to do that right before we leave, so it doesn’t have to spend so much time in that little bag.”

Oikawa freezes, then grabs Suga’s hands in his, eyes big and shiny. “S-Suga-chan… You’re really an angel, aren’t you?”

Despite the rising blush on his face, Suga shoves his hand in Oikawa’s face. Thankfully the threat of messing up his makeup and hair is enough for Oikawa to vacate his bubble immediately. The two boys wander the festival side by side, shoulders brushing and eventually they make their way to the center, where musicians are setting up. He catches sight of a familiar face and waves hello; unexpectedly, Tanaka Saeko abandons her station, and approaches them, flipping her _bachi_ in the air and catching them midair.

“Suga-kun!” she greets. “Ryuu, Yuu, Shrimpy, and the others were just here a few minutes ago- did you miss them?”

Suga shakes his head, and gestures to Oikawa beside him, who hasn’t moved since Saeko first waved at them. “No, I’m here with my friend tonight. I just wanted to say hi to you before you guys went on! I’ll try to find them, though.”

At the mention of him, Oikawa stiffens, jaw flapping open and closed uselessly as Saeko eyes him up and down. “Hmm…” she leans in, squinting at his face. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“N-No I um-” he stutters, inching further away from her. Suga thinks he’s trying to hide himself behind him.

“Whoa! It’s the Grand King!”

Both boys’ heads snap in the direction of the voice. Suga would recognize that voice anywhere, and Oikawa just sighs, before his usual cocky smirk makes its way back onto his face.

Within seconds, he’s being accosted by Hinata, giving him a quick hug in greeting before turning back to join Kageyama, who’s kept his distance. “Hi, Sugawara-san. Um, hi Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa slips out from behind Suga and waves cheerily at Kageyama. “Fancy meeting you here, Tobio-chan!”

The two face off, Oikawa with his plastered smile, and Kageyama’s confused look turning more and more hostile with every moment.

“Um, Sugawara-san,” he turns to face Hinata, who’s looking between the other two setters and Suga as if he was trying to put something together. “What are you doing here?”

Suga laughs and gestures to Saeko, still standing beside them, “We were just wishing Saeko-san good luck before the show. Why don’t you guys go back to the team and we’ll meet up with you in a bit?”

Hinata nods, “We’ll see you soon!” and then he’s off. Kageyama takes another second, as if he was still processing their interaction, before turning away and following.

Once the two boys have disappeared into the crowd, Oikawa deflates. Next to them, Saeko is tapping a bachi against her cheek, and humming. “Oikawa… Where do I know that name… Oikawa… Oh!” She suddenly whips the bachi out, levelling it inches from Oikawa’s nose.

“Huh?” he flinches back and bumps into Suga.

“You’re Tomoe’s baby brother!”

“H-Huh!? You know my sister?”

“Yep! We’re both on the archery team at Miyagaku! She’s studying Human Culture, right? I’m in the Music department!”

“Oh that’s…”

“Tell you what- come meet me after the show. I bet I could get a few drinks into you before the fireworks and get the blackmail I need to finally beat Tomoe!”

“Drink? Blackmail?” Oikawa’s eyes dart between Saeko and Suga, at a complete loss for what to do. “I- uh- I’m only eighteen?”

Saeko screeches in glee, pinching Oikawa’s cheek in a way that reminds Suga of his more enthusiastic aunts. “You’re too cute! I’m friends with a bunch of the booth owners, they won’t give us trouble. Unless…” she lifts an eyebrow at him, “you gonna rat us out, Suga-kun?”

“Not if you get me a drink too!”

“There’s a good boy! Now- I’ve gotta get ready. See you two later!”

With a flurry, Saeko is gone and the two setters are left watching her take her place with the rest of the taiko drummers. When she’s far enough away, Oikawa lets out a sigh. “College girls are scary.”

Suga laughs and smacks the middle of Oikawa’s back. “You literally live with a college girl!” The taller boy pouts and rubs at the suddenly sore spot but follows Suga as he pushes them towards the direction that Kageyama and Hinata had gone in earlier. They don’t have to walk far until Suga perks up at the sound of his teammates’ rowdy bickering. Before they can get too close, Tanaka and Nishinoya come rushing at them.

“Suga-san! I didn’t know you were coming tonight!”

Nishinoya nods excitedly, “Yeah! We sent out a group text but you didn’t answer!” Nishinoya grabs Suga’s hand, “We assumed you were busy, but you’re here! Let’s go find the others!”

Shooting an amused look at Oikawa, he tilts his head in invitation to follow the two second years. “Sorry, I didn’t see, I haven’t checked my phone much today.”

The four of them trek the few meters to get to where the rest of the team is congregated, though it doesn’t seem like Tanaka nor Nishinoya have noticed that Oikawa has been following them. Hinata is attempting to climb onto Tsukishima’s shoulders with Narita trying to pull him off, and Nishinoya and Tanaka run to help their kouhai, Nishnoya basically tackling Narita and Tanaka fending off both Yamaguchi and Kinoshita. Suga laughs and bumps his shoulder into Oikawa, as he notices Daichi, Asahi and Kageyama approaching them.

“Are the kohai in your team always this rowdy?” Oikawa asks. Suga shoots him a smirk and takes a step to meet the approaching group- but then Oikawa tugs on his shoulder, “Play along, won’t you Suga-chan?”

Unexpectedly, he sees Kageyama step in front of his two senpai and approach them first. “Hi again, Suga-san. Um… Are you here with Suga-san, Oikawa-san?”

Suga feels two arms snake around his waist, and suddenly Oikawa’s chin is hooked over his shoulder. “Yep! Suga-chan and I wanted to have a little date since we didn’t have any other plans!”

With a roll of his eyes, Suga smacks Oikawa’s hands away, but stays close. Maybe he has a point. “Is it fine if Oikawa spends tonight with us, Kageyama?”

Kageyama starts, and even in the dim evening light of the festival, he can see the blood rushing to Kageyama’s face as he stutters and steps back. Daichi places a comforting hang on Kageyama’s shoulder as he takes his place at the front. Ever the captain, he stretches a hand out- and Suga stifles a laugh at Daichi’s fake smile. The two captains shake hands and smile at each other, smiling and occasionally grunting with effort as they tighten their grips on each other’s hands every few shakes.

After a few seconds of this, Suga steps forward and grabs both of their wrists, tugging them away from each other. “Okay, enough of this stupid dick measuring contest. We’re here to have fun, right?”

Right on cue, a strong drum beat sounds from the center of the festival grounds. The team, Suga and Oikawa included, all watch in rapt awe, even Suga gets into it, cheering along with Tanaka and Nishinoya every time Saeko did something particularly awesome.

When it ends, Suga stands with the second years, giggling at the complete and utter adoration in his kouhai’s eyes. “My sister is so badass!”

Suga laughs and ruffles the fuzz on Tanaka’s head, gesturing for Oikawa to join him from where he’s standing with Kageyama. “Speaking of sisters, Saeko knows Oikawa’s sister! You should’ve seen his face- he was terrified!”

To his surprise, Tanaka and Oikawa actually get along, bonding over their boisterous older sisters. Suga takes a moment to pull his phone out.

Tanaka Saeko  
  
**Suga:** We're w/ the team  
  
**Saeko:** kk cleaning up  
  
**Saeko:** meet @ yakamoto yakitori in 20  
  
**Suga:** (っ˘ڡ˘ς)  


They get swept into the group, Oikawa slotting in easily with Tanaka and Nishinoya as they race to the shooting booth yelling about an accuracy competition. Suga hangs back and takes his usual place by Daichi’s side. He stands, arms folded and occasionally brushing his elbows against Daichi’s arm. It should be worrying how well Oikawa is getting along with Tanaka and Noya, but he can’t help but laugh at the sight of his kouhai and his friend bouncing around the stall, rivalry nowhere to be found.

“So…”

He turns to Daichi, smiling softly and scratching at his cheek bashfully.

“You and Oikawa?”

“Hmm?” Suga turns fully toward Daichi and furrows his brow. “Yes?”

Daichi sighs and looks away, “When did you guys…?”

Suga shrugs, “Oh, we started talking at that first practice game. We started texting and I guess it spiraled from here, haha…”

With a jolt, Daichi snaps his head up, eyes wide with surprise, “You guys have been going out for that long?!”

“Wait what?” Suga begins to shake his head, waving his hands frantically, “Dating? We’re no-“

“Sawamura!”

Both boys turn just in time to see Michimiya bounding towards them, waving an enthusiastic hand. The inside of Suga’s mouth goes sour. He’s reminded of a few days ago, when Michimya came into their classroom during break to talk to Daichi. He patted his friend on the shoulder and left with a wink, muttering to Daichi that he was going to buy a drink from the vending machine.

When he came back Michimiya was gone, and Daichi had told him that she just came to ask him if he was going to the festival. Suga didn’t ask what his answer was.

Apparently, he said no. God dammit.

“Oh, Michimiya, what are you doing here?”

He’s snapped out of his frustrated trance by Daichi, but he tunes out their voices anyway. He watches the two of them talk. They look… good together. It’s interesting to see the difference between Daichi The Captain and Daichi The Boy. Michimiya doesn’t keep her distance, but rests comfortably in his bubble. Even if there was any hope that Daichi isn’t completely straight, Suga knows that he would never have a chance against Michimiya and her childhood-friend status. God they’re _so_ perfect together. He can see it now: they’ll make so many volleyball team captain babies, and Suga would be their perpetually single uncle, babysitting them while their lovey dovey parents go on dates.

Suga turns away from the two of them. Their conversation doesn’t miss a single beat as he walks to where Oikawa is fending off both Noya and Tanaka, triumphantly waving a slip of paper in the air out of reach with one hand, and the other pushing against Tanaka’s forehead, keeping him at arm’s length.

Immediately Suga feels his mood lift at the sight of his friends getting along. “What the hell are you three doing?” he asks between peals of laughter.

Oikawa bounces over to him, second years forgotten. “Suga-chan, look!” He waves the paper in front of Suga’s face, who snatches it away and smothers more laughter. “A coupon for 2 free takoyaki!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miyagi Gakuin Women’s University is a real place, with those real departments and that real archery team lmao. also there was a study in 2000 about the smoking patterns of women at “a women’s university in miyagi” that was referred to as “Miyagaku” so….ya. there’s a look into my fixation w/ accuracy. 
> 
> thank you so so much to everyone who has commented!! either this will update sooner or later while I write n do some soul searching. ironic that a degree in writing ruined me as a writer. expect a new (angsty) fic soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> delicious. finally, some good FUCKING FOOD!!!!! yall have waited long enough!!! **also thank u to every fuckin commenter I’d die for literally every one of you.**  
>   
>  also also, [the kids aren’t all right](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WR7U7_cKJw4) fits so well w/ this chap but I didn’t realize it until I was almost done writing :(

The two setters make their way across the festival to the yakitori stall that Saeko mentioned in her text. Thankfully, like her brother, Saeko isn’t hard to miss. She greets them both with hair ruffles, and points toward a small walkway between Yakimoto’s Yakitori and Taiyaki by Tanaka. As they slip between the stalls, Saeko points a thumb over her shoulder at the taiyaki stall. “That’s my aunt and uncle’s stall. They’ve been setting up next to the Yakimotos for longer than I’ve been alive. I even had my first drink with them!”

They emerge into a small, lantern-lit seating area behind the stalls. Saeko waves at the man at the grill as sits at the low table. “Sit down! I’ll grab the food and drinks.”

As soon as she’s out of earshot, occupied with talking to the woman at the register, Oikawa turns to Suga with a manic look in his eyes. “I’m going to die tonight aren’t I?”

In return he gets a sly grin and a pat on the back. “Don’t worry! We’re here to forget about our boy troubles, aren’t we?”

Oikawa nods, unsure of where Suga is going with this.

“Then what better way to do that, than getting drunk and talking about girls?”

Of course. Oikawa rolls his eyes at his Suga’s incomprehensible train of thought. Before he can retort with something teasing and witty, a metal tray lands in front of them with a clatter.

“Eat up, boys!” As she sits, Saeko sets a bottle of sake and three cups in front of each of them.

Suga immediately grabs a skewer and takes a bite, “Thanks Saeko-san!”

Saeko shrugs and uncorks the bottle, “What did I tell you? Just call me Saeko-nee!” She pours heavily into her own cup, and suddenly Oikawa is suddenly reminded of his when his brother used to complain about being the youngest in his office and being given the title of “beer bitch”, filling and refilling his seniors’ cups while he barely got to drink any of his own.

“Um—aren’t I supposed to—”

But Saeko cuts him off, “Nope! I’ll pour!” as if to solidify her point, she upends the bottle into his cup, a few drops of sake messily splashing onto the tabletop. “You’re my trump card, so I’ll treat you tonight!”

Oikawa flaps his hands, unsure of what to do with the suddenly full cup in front of him. He doesn’t drink much—there’s never any time, and it’s too much of a hassle to get—and he knows for sure that he won’t be able to finish all of it and still be able to drive home.

Thankfully, as always, Suga comes to his rescue and switches his own empty cup for Oikawa’s full one. “Saeko-nee!” he scolds in between bites of the shockingly red meat on the skewer he’s holding, “He drove us here!”

With a put-upon sigh, she pours another glass, this time only about halfway full. When they all have drinks and skewers in front of them (Oikawa makes sure that he plucks one from the side of the pile of meat as far away as possible from the side that holds Suga’s food), Saeko raises her glass. “To festivals, and friendship!”

Suga raises his glass in response, and Oikawa follows a little slower “Kanpai!” Steeling himself for the incoming bitterness, Oikawa takes a sip from his cup. He gets a whiff of something sweet which, he can’t tell if it softens or emphasizes the burn of the alcohol on the roof of his mouth.

After a few small sips of sake and a few bites of a normal colored meat that didn’t make his eyes burn with the spiciness, Oikawa feels a little more at ease. During a lull in the conversation between Suga and Saeko, he asks, “So… You’re friends with my sister?”

Saeko snorts, “If you could call us friends!” she downs a gulp of sake so smoothly that Oikawa’s eyes widen in fear, and gestures for both boys to do so as well. “We both had a crush on this hot guy that we always saw at tournaments. It went on for most of the first term, us trying to sabotage each other…” Saeko sighs wistfully. “You ever wonder why she cut her hair in her first year?”

Oikawa can’t help but let his jaw drop. Beside him, Suga snorts into his drink and starts coughing. “That was _you?_ ”

The only answer he gets is laughter. “Somehow we got wind that he liked girls with shorter hair. She didn’t want to cut it, but _somehow_ she got gum stuck in her hair.” Oikawa pales at the thought of his sister trying to deal with gum in her hair. He had witnessed it once before, when he was eight, and Toshio thought it would be funny to prank their sister. He still has flashbacks to that incident. “Turns out,” Saeko continues, “our dumb asses didn’t realize he already had a girlfriend!” She downs the rest of her drink. “Never stopped fucking with each other, though.”

It keeps going like that for the rest of dinner: Saeko telling stories about her three-year-strong prank war with Tomoe (“Did she tell you about the time she accidentally ripped out like three of my piercings?”), Oikawa sharing a few harmless facts about his sister (“Did you know that in high school she practiced English by watching anime?” “Anime in _English_?” “Yeah! She called him _Ash_ for years!”), and Suga suggesting potential prank ideas (“Hear me out here: replace her hand sanitizer with clear glue.” “Suga-chan what the fuck.” “Suga-kun you’re a GENIUS!”)

By the time the sky is completely dark and the air is starting to cool, his belly is full and Oikawa feels pleasantly buzzed. Definitely not approaching drunk like Suga, but enough for his cheeks to hurt a bit from the smile that refuses to leave his face.

After they wave goodbye to Saeko and thank her for the food which she waves off, again saying that the insider info on Tomoe was payment enough, they make their way back to the main thoroughfare. Suga leans heavily against his shoulder and demands to be taken to the nearest bathroom. Unable to hold back a giggle, Oikawa laces their fingers together and hopes that Suga isn’t the type of drunk to get distracted and wander off.

As he waits outside of the bathrooms, he pulls his phone out to pass the time. He doesn’t think he’s that distracted, but the “Oikawa?” makes him jump and scramble to keep from dropping his phone. He really doesn’t want to look up, but he hears it again. “Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

He schools his face into an exaggerated grin, eyes scrunched closed and cheeks straining in a sad approximation of the one he had been wearing with Suga and Saeko at dinner. “Iwa-chan!” he savors the three seconds that it’s socially acceptable to hold the expression. When he finally opens his eyes again, he fights the urge to run. He darts his gaze between Iwaizumi in front of him and the bathroom door to the side, willing Suga to finish peeing quicker so he could save him and he doesn’t have to make conversation with _Iwa-chan and his girlfriend_. Speaking of, he shoots a pleasant smile in her direction. Or, he’s pretty sure it’s in her general direction. His brain feels so manic right now that his vision has gone completely blurry and he can barely make out Iwaizumi’s face where he’s standing only a few feet away.

He can’t tell if he’s thankful for the alcohol in his system or not. Right now he thinks that he’s not sober enough for this, but he also knows that if he was sober, he would think that he wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“So…” he turns to the Iwaizumi-shaped blob in front of him that has started speaking again. “Are you here alone?”

Ever the brute, Iwa-chan always gets to the point. Oikawa can’t help but bark out a laugh at his friend’s bluntness. He almost forgets _why_ he’s asking that question, the mere concept of it was so funny. Still avoiding any and all eye contact, he glances to the side again and tips his head toward the bathrooms. “Just waiting for my friend.”

He knows that if he actually looked at Iwaizumi’s face, he would find furrowed brows and a slight frown, the same expression he makes when he can’t figure out what a metaphor means in their Japanese lit. class. Oikawa keeps his mouth shut, though, and doesn’t offer any more. He can’t tell how long they’ve been standing here. Honestly, he has absolutely nothing to lose at this point. He lets himself fidget and keep his head turned toward the direction he knows Suga will be coming _any second now_ even though it’s rude and Iwaizumi and his _girlfriend_ are still standing there and-

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve formally introduced you guys before!”

Any time now would be great, Suga… But there’s still no sign of him. Oikawa swears he can feel the muscles in his neck creak as he forces himself to face Iwaizumi head on. He focuses on Iwaizumi’s right cheek, not quite making eye contact, but not completely avoiding them. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the top of a brunette head and a flowery hair decoration.

He wants to stick his fingers in his ears and start yelling, or maybe turn tail and run away. He could always go and find Tanaka and Nishinoya; they seemed to like him well enough, and they’re loud and funny—the perfect distractions. He just doesn’t want to hear any more because then all of this will become a lot more real than he’s made himself believe it was, and he’s both so ashamed and so proud of himself that even though his best and oldest friend has been dating this girl for two months, Oikawa has yet to even learn her name.

“Tooru~!”

Again, Oikawa jumps at the sound of his name—unexpected, to say the least, because they’ve never called each other by their first names—but breathes an internal sigh of relief because now he has the perfect out. As he approaches, Suga shoots him a wink and mouths something _very_ familiar that Oikawa can only laugh at. Damn Suga. He might be an angel, but he’s definitely got a taste for revenge.

He slips under Oikawa’s arm like he belongs there, one arm curling around his waist, and the other absently coming up to play with Oikawa’s obi after he waves a quick hello at the couple. Oikawa tries to hold back another laugh. They both know exactly what they look like right now draped all over each other, and Suga playing with the maroon fabric around Oikawa’s waist—the one that’s the exact same color as his own…

“ _Tooru_ , do you want to find the others for the fireworks?” _Again_ with the first name. Oikawa thinks that if whatever first-choice career Suga wants doesn’t work out, he would be an incredible actor. “Or we could go to a place I know that’s a little more…” Suga leans closer, completely turned away from Iwaizumi now, “ _private_.” Scratch that, Suga could break the bank working at a host club. Oikawa doesn’t have to fake the dryness in his mouth or the shiver that runs up his spine that he knows Suga can feel judging by the smirk on his still pink tinted lips.

Without another word, Suga nudges him away from the other two. Relief rushes into his system at the thought of escaping, and the most he can do is wave goodbye absentmindedly. In contrast, Suga twists and looks over the shoulder that’s closest to Oikawa and puts a finger up to his lips in a shushing motion. He’s really not looking forward to explaining that to Iwaizumi on Monday.

After they’ve walked for a few minutes, Suga tugs him into a gap between two stalls and pulls him into a tight embrace. “You okay?” he asks, mouth right beside Oikawa’s ear.

Oikawa only nods and buries his face into the crook of Suga’s neck. “Thank you,” he murmurs, quiet enough that he thinks that Suga feels, more than hears it.

Suga hums, that deep, rumbling hum that makes Oikawa feel safe and understood.

Surrounded by warmth and the dim atmosphere of the alley, Oikawa feels his shoulders droop with weariness. Suddenly he’s fucking _exhausted_. He doesn’t even want to think about life outside of this moment, but Suga eventually pulls away. He frowns at the sudden lack of contact, but Suga grabs his hand, properly laces their fingers together, and tugs them back into the throng of people all headed for the edge of the festival grounds to watch the fireworks.

They don’t find the others, but Oikawa does spot a stocky man in casual clothes standing next to a woman with short hair. Judging by the squeeze of Suga’s hand, he sees them too.

Oikawa doesn’t know what he’d do if he saw Iwaizumi right now. Without the threat of having to hold a conversation, there’s nothing that would stop him from keeping his eyes glued on them for as long as he could, torturing himself with every brush of their shoulders or stolen kiss that he saw. So, he keeps his gaze down, shifting between the lower hems of his and Suga’s yukatas and their hands, until he hears the first pop of the fireworks.

He’s not sure what triggers it, but he clings to the warmth of Suga’s hand in his own, and he can’t help but grip it a little tighter as he feels a sudden burning in his eyes. He blinks and the fireworks blend into one another, creating one big grey, pulsating blur. Oikawa tries not to let his face crumble—don’t cry don’t cry _don’t cry_ —and purses his wobbling lips together because if he opens them now he’ll—

Then he feels a tug on his hand and instinctively, he follows. Suga weaves through the crowd, and Oikawa hurriedly uses the sleeve of his yukata to dab at the corners of his eyes. Eventually, they make their way to the tree line. Suga looks back for a moment, at a point over Oikawa’s shoulder, and pulls him a few feet further in before he’s being pushed backward, and his shoulders meet rough bark.

Suga cups his cheek with one hand, catching the few stray tears that leak out, and pushes Oikawa’s bangs back with the other. He feels Suga trace the line of his nose down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. To his surprise, Suga’s eyes are brimming with tears as well, and he chokes out a sob. “We’re both tipsy and sad, and we both look _really_ attractive,” Suga chokes, voice heavy with tears, “Wanna make out?”

Oikawa gapes at him. Suga, with his cheeks still pink with blush but now wet by his eyes,. They’re close enough that he can feel Suga’s breath, warm and humid because of the gummy mouth feel that always come with holding back tears for too long. Maintaining eye contact, Suga moves, drapes the hand that was cupping his cheek over his shoulders, and runs his hand through Oikawa’s hair with the other. Suga’s hands simply rest on him, not pushing or pulling him in either direction until Oikawa begins to close the ten centimeters separating them. Then suddenly Suga’s grabbing handfuls of his hair and yukata.

When Suga sucks on his tongue, Oikawa can feel his knees buckle and he instinctively hugs Suga closer, fingers tensing and relaxing on his back, giving in to the _warmwetsoft_ sensation. He doesn’t register the boom of the fireworks over the pounding of his heart and their labored breathing. He wonders if Suga can taste the remnants of sake on his tongue like he can taste it on his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so concerned about oikawa drinking and driving?? so I looked it up! at 16% abv for a standard 4oz sake pour, in 1 hour oikawa would be at most 0.019 bac (other sources said 0.009 and 0.015), and his drunkest would be 0.029 bac which is still below the Japanese dui baseline of 0.03 but regardless!! irl, BUZZED DRIVING IS STILL DRUNK DRIVING!!!!
> 
> (if yall want more angst I have [a new fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24722059) pls give me prompt s)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey almost started crying while writing this. basically, their texts in ch.2 were the end of the interhigh. the tournament we’re talking about now is the spring high?? I fucking had to consult [F](https://haikyuu.fandom.com/wiki/Timeline) [O](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1xVmfDCxziX5yZ_pxXZ5POlLtmXAbNFSXAn2WcrmWHF0/edit#gid=0) [U](https://haikyuu.fandom.com/wiki/List_of_Matches) [R](https://www.reddit.com/r/haikyuu/comments/5jgazl/inter_high_and_spring_tournament/) different timelines to figure that out.
> 
> in addition to putting in way too much research into this… this fic is also now longer than my thesis was.
> 
> song recs of the week: [c’mon p!atd & fun. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klHpznbGeYc) and [head gets loud ryan caraveo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-__0U6_1i00)  
>   
>  **THANK YOU AGAIN TO EVERY COMMENTER I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU AND YOU'RE ALL TOO SWEET!!!! FEELING FUCKING VALIDATED AS HELL!!!**

If asked, Suga would say that he had no idea what possessed him to drag Oikawa into the woods to make out during the fireworks show. He would say that it could have been the ache of seeing Daichi with Michimiya. Or maybe he was still a little drunk from dinner—he and Saeko did drink most of it since Oikawa only had half a glass.

But if he’s being completely honest, it’s because, while Oikawa was distracted, he found Iwaizumi. Just standing with his girlfriend and looking at him. Even from afar Suga could see his eyebrows furrowed, frowning at Suga like he had any right to.

Not one to back down, Suga kept their gazes locked. Even when the first fireworks shot into the sky, and he felt the resentment simmering in his stomach turn into a boiling rage at this _boy_ who dared to make his (Suga still isn’t sure if that _he_ meant himself or Iwaizumi) best friend so sad. He only broke the contact when Oikawa squeezed his hand.

With the last remnants of sake still working its way through his system, he gives in to the urge to be petty. If Iwaizumi is going to dislike him for being with Oikawa, then he’d make sure he absolutely hated Suga. As he pulls Oikawa along, he makes sure that they’re in full view of Iwaizumi, even glancing back to shoot him a sharp look before they step completely out of view.

Suga considers himself a kind person who only wants the best for the people he loves, but the smug satisfaction of seeing Iwaizumi glare so openly at him warms his heart in ways he didn’t know it could be warmed.

So he pushes Oikawa against a tree; he wipes his friend’s tears away and lets himself crumble a little bit too. He looks at Oikawa, still devastatingly attractive even this far into the woods, where the light of the festival barely reaches. Even with his puffy, squinty eyes, and slightly running nose, his makeup is still impeccable. His stomach tightens. He’s so _sad_. If someone as pretty and outgoing as Oikawa can be reduced to a crying mess at the sight of his crush with another girl, then what hope did Suga have?

The tightening sensation crawls up his throat until he lets out a sob. _What the fuck?_ Here he is, best (can he say that yet? they’ve only known each other for a few months, but it feels right because he can imagine saying it for a long time.) friend crying in his arms, and all Suga can think about is himself.

He lets the tears fall, because he’s drunk enough to let himself be selfish, and asks.

Oikawa, the fucking incredible friend he is, kisses him hard enough that his mind whites out for a second. He forgets about straight boys, and crushes, and the awful, awful clawing jealousy festering in his gut. Oikawa’s really good at this, Suga thinks. He’s only actually made out with someone a few times before, only at parties that his old senpais invited him to in his first and second year; with other inexperienced classmates who he pretended not to know if he ever saw them at school. When he feels envy at the thought of how Oikawa got so experienced, Suga just presses against him harder and pushes the thought away. It’s a little tight with their yukatas, but he’s able to slot a leg between Oikawa’s thighs and grind against him.

He’s not sure how long they’re there for, but he lets himself get lost in the heat; the noises of the festival fading away until their heavy breathing and soft groans are the only things he hears. It’s only when the grand finale of the fireworks show booms loud enough for them to jump out of their skins that they stop. In his surprise, Oikawa hugs him tighter, and Suga instinctively bites down.

He hears a gasp of pain and Suga leans away, running a thumb on the place where he can see a spot of blood on Oikawa’s lip. He brushes the it away and places a final kiss on the spot.

The two boys look at each other for a moment, Oikawa’s arms still wrapped around his waist, and Suga can’t help but start to giggle. “We— I—” Suga wheezes, “I bit you!”

Slowly, Oikawa’s pout softens into a smile, then for a moment he laughs before, “Ow—hey! don’t make me smile so hard, you broke my face!”

They stand wrapped in each other’s warmth for a moment. The sounds of the festival crowds slowly grow louder as the ringing in their ears from the fireworks fades. Finally, Suga pushes himself off of Oikawa’s chest and straightens his yukata, pulling at wrinkled seams, and thanking whatever deity is looking down at him that his obi hasn’t come undone. Oikawa follows suit, and when Oikawa deems them presentable, they slowly make their way back to the festival grounds.

Walking side by side, hands brushing every so often, Suga thinks to himself that _this was a good night_. Until… “Sooo… Tooru?” Oikawa asks with the most shit-eating grin Suga has ever seen.

Nope. He takes it back. Suga blushes and shoves at his shoulder, thankful that it’s a lot less crowded now. “Shut up! I was drunk and I saw you about have a fucking breakdown in front of Iwaizumi!”

Oikawa’s face scrunches as he shoves back. “Hey! I wasn’t going to have a breakdown!”

Suga raises an eyebrow.

Oikawa redoubles his pout before stomping off ahead toward the parking lot. Suga laughs again and follows behind. Eventually, Oikawa pauses and reaches his hand out to Suga. “I might have been mildly distressed,” he admits.

Oikawa ☆⌒ (･ω<)  
  
**Oikawa:** Thanks for tonight I really appreciated it  
  
**Suga:** No problem  
  
**Suga:** I was the one who asked you to come remember?  
  
**Oikawa:** But still! I wouldve spent all night moping in bed!  
  
**Suga:** lmao same  
  
**Oikawa:** glad u had fun tho  
  
**Oikawa:** (´,,•ω•,,)♡  
  
**Suga:** ofc I did!  
  
**Oikawa:** but like we’re still cool right???  
  
**Suga:** Ya we already talked abt this!  
  
**Oikawa:**!!!!!  
  
**Oikawa:** (・`ω´・)  
  
**Suga:** YES WE ARE!!!!!  
  
**Suga:** we should totally kiss again tho  
  
**Oikawa:** (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡  
  
**Suga:** ♡ (˘ ⌣ ˘ ) ε˘⊂)  
  


* * *

Despite it being summer break, the team is still busy with practice. They went to Tokyo for training camp a few weeks ago, but the Spring High Miyagi Prefectural Preliminaries are in less than a month, and there’s no time to waste. Thankfully, with how busy they are, come Monday practice, Daichi seems to have forgotten about the festival. Or he just doesn’t bring it up. Either way, Suga is on edge for a few days, until it’s clear that Daichi won’t be asking him about Oikawa any time soon.

Noya and Tanaka mention him a few times; he hears them talking about the prank ideas Saeko has planned for the coming term for Oikawa Tomoe, and even catches a few “You know, that Oikawa’s not as much of an asshole as I thought he was.” the Monday after the festival.

Between practice and study sessions, he and Oikawa have been able to see each other a few more times over the break. They’re even able to attend the last night of the festival together and use the coupon that Oikawa won on the first night. Thankfully, they don’t run into anyone that time.

They study like they usually do, and Oikawa even offers to meet him at the Seijou gym after their official practices since there’s no way he’ll be able to get any personal practice done with his teammates so determined to stay at the Karasuno gym until they’re kicked out by the janitor. Apparently, Oikawa had struck a deal with the janitors midway through his second year, where they let him stay as late as he wanted, as long as the gym was pristine when he left.

The thought of Oikawa practicing unsupervised deep into the night worried Suga at first, but he’s thankful for the extra practice. He knows Oikawa appreciates his company too, since his team has lightened up on practice days since they’re going straight through to the Spring High Miyagi Qualifiers in October.

With a few weeks to go until the tournament, Suga isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Oikawa. It’s Friday night; they didn’t make plans to practice tonight, but he’s probably bored anyway. He flips his phone open and greets, “Yeah?”

Instead of the usual lively greeting, Suga hears a quiet sigh. He pauses and waves the curious looks Daichi and Asahi shoot at him away. Asahi hesitates, but Daichi gives him another worried look before he pulls Asahi away when Suga gestures for them to go on ahead without him. “Oikawa, what’s up?”

More silence. He resists the urge to ask again; he knows that Oikawa will talk when he’s ready, so he watches the rest of his team get farther and farther away from him. Finally, after Daichi turns back again and Suga yells, “I’ll catch up!” while muffling the receiver, he hears a light sniffle coming from the other side of the line.

“Hey Suga-chan, what are you up to?”

He freezes, brow furrowing and turning away from where the rest of his team has convened in front of Sakanoshita Store. “Practice just let up so we’re getting dinner at Coach Ukai’s. Why? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing, I just… Um, did you want to come over tonight to watch tape?”

Suga hesitates. They’ve invited each other over before, but never to _watch tape_. That was a new one. Maybe Oikawa was tired and didn’t want to practice anymore? It was late for _him_ , but still pretty early for Oikawa. There was definitely something off about his tone, though. “Yeah,” he agrees. “We just finished practice, so I might get to your house pretty late…”

“I can pick you up!”

“Oh—okay?”

“Yeah don’t worry, just stay there. I’ll be there in twenty.”

He hears the familiar squeak of sneakers on gym floors, and a flurry of movement before the phone clicks off. Suga stares at his blank phone screen for a moment, before flipping it shut. That didn’t sound great.

When he finally reaches the store, Daichi hands him a meat bun that he grabs immediately. “’ank ‘ou,” he mumbles through the mouthful of food.

Daichi smiles at him and Suga feels the weight in his stomach lighten a bit. He finishes the bite and repeats, “Thank you. Really.”

“Looks like you needed it.”

Suga sighs and takes another bite, not offering a reply.

They stand side by side, watching the rest of their team cause a ruckus in the store. It’s late enough in the evening that there aren’t any other customers, so Coach Ukai is a little more lenient with the noise. It’s nice. For a moment, he can forget that their last chance to play volleyball together is being dangled in front of them just out of reach. If they can’t make it past the preliminaries, then it’s over. They have to get far enough to get to the qualifiers so they can make it to nationals. To make the Battle at the Garbage Dump a reality again.

But for now, standing with Daichi, eating the food he bought him, feeling the warmth of the friendship and trust that has been built within his team… it’s okay. It’s okay that he’s a third-year, the vice-captain, but only a backup-setter. It’s okay that his teammates are going to take this team as far as they can, and it’s okay that he probably won’t be on the court even if they win. It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s—

“Suga, did something happen?”

He blinks in surprise, not realizing that he had been zoning out while looking at Kinoshita refereeing an arm-wrestling contest between Nishinoya and Tanaka. He turns to Daichi and is taken aback at the concerned look on his face. “I’m just tired,” he replies quietly, and tries to ignore when Daichi’s eyebrows furrow and his lips tilt down into a frown.

The silence sits heavily between them, but then Suga smiles brightly and asks Daichi how his studying is going. It’s a weak try, but it gets him talking, and gets his attention away from the subject at hand, so Suga latches on.

He’s just starting to settle into the conversation when he hears the familiar putter of Oikawa’s scooter approaching. Daichi trails off when he sees Suga glance outside. “Sorry,” Suga holds up a hand in apology, “that’s my ride. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

At Daichi’s nod, he waves goodbye and runs outside, before the other boy, or any of their teammates can follow him.

Once outside, Suga waves at his friend. It could just have been the fluorescent light of the store combined with the yellow glow of the streetlamp, but the shadows on Oikawa’s face look sharper than usual. With only a tired “Hi,” Oikawa hands him the spare helmet—Suga doesn’t call it _his_ helmet yet even though he’s the only one that’s worn it for the past few months, because he knows exactly who put the Godzilla sticker on it—and once he’s settled, they’re off.

The early evening air rushes past them and Suga shivers as it chills his body. Oikawa’s house is farther than his, from Karasuno, and by the time they arrive, Suga’s shivering. He rushes inside the door without waiting for Oikawa. “Sorry for the intrusion!” Suga calls into the house.

Behind him, Oikawa nudges their shoes off to the side of the unusually sparse genkan. “Don’t worry about it,” he croaks, and Suga realizes it’s the first words they’ve spoken to each other outside of phone calls since last week. “My parents are away for the weekend with Toshio’s family, and Tomoe went back to campus.”

“Oh.”

They slip into the routine they’ve developed over the past few weeks of hanging out: Oikawa gathers a spare set of pajamas, and Suga heads to the bathroom, where Oikawa keeps a spare toothbrush for Suga, next to his and Tomoe’s. (And isn’t that exciting? When he slept over for the second time and the same brush was still there, he almost cried. He’s never had a friend _keep_ something like that for him before.) There’s also a fourth brush—a simple dark green one, but he’s never seen anyone use it, and he doesn’t think that it’s Toshio’s.

Suga savors the hot water washing the chill of the night and the remnants of practice off of him. He doesn’t take long, though. Since they hung up, he’s been anxious to find out why Oikawa invited him over so suddenly. Usually Suga would assume it’s because he didn’t want to be alone, but one look at his face said that it wasn’t the only thing bothering his friend.

When he gets downstairs, there’s a game from the June Inter High tournament playing on the TV. Suga plops himself on the couch and leans against Oikawa. He looks small in the slightly large sweatshirt he’s wearing, especially since his shoulders are hunched in, curled around his knees, which are pulled up and into the jacket. From this angle he can see the light of the screen reflecting against Oikawa’s glasses; underneath them, his eyes are wide and flickering with the movement of the video. For the minute or so that Suga watches him, he doesn’t count more than ten blinks.

Even in the dark of the room, when he’s this close, the dark circles around Oikawa’s eyes look worse than they did when he picked him up. They look hollow, and red, and in the light of the TV he looks ghostly pale.

Suga gets where he’s coming from. Oikawa is in the exact same position as he is, and Suga himself has been practicing more than ever. But he knows there’s a breaking point—and he’s tired of watching his friend run himself into the ground like this.

He watches for a few minutes and is able to note a few stray observations on the patterns he recognizes in both of the teams’ plays before his eyes start drooping. Oikawa is warm, he’s exhausted from practice, and the shirt he’s borrowing is just big enough to feel extra cozy. He brings an arm to wrap around Oikawa’s neck, and tugs him down. When the taller boy ignores him, Suga frowns and gets on his knees, pulling at Oikawa’s arms and determined to get his friend to uncurl. “Quit ignoring me!” he nags, one arm tugging at Oikawa’s clasped hands, and the other reaching for his glasses. It’s only when Suga pulls Oikawa’s glasses completely off that Oikawa finally turns to glare at him.

“Quit annoying me!”

Exasperated, but recognizing that he’s won, Suga bear hugs Oikawa and tips them back to lay the couch. “You were the one who invited me in the first place,” he grumbles. But then the crinkle of Velcro and a flash of black catches his eye as Oikawa finally uncurls and arranges himself on top of Suga. “Oikawa, what is that?”

Once again choosing to ignore Suga, Oikawa grumbles and struggles with Suga’s shirt for a second, pulling it up and sticking his head inside.

Sighing, Suga lets him stay there. He strokes the other boy’s head through the fabric of his shirt, laughing at himself incredulously at the situation. He doesn’t think this could ever happen with any of his other friends. Unable to move, he turns back to the TV and mindlessly watches and waits for Oikawa to reemerge.

Eventually, a few minutes after Suga starts suspecting that he has fallen asleep, Oikawa shifts, and pushes himself out from underneath the fabric.

“Ah! Wow!” Suga exclaims, determined to lighten the mood. “I’ve given birth to a beautiful baby boy!”

Oikawa smiles weakly in response. “Sorry,” he mumbles, avoiding making eye contact even if he’s propped up on his elbows, close enough that Suga can feel his breath. “I’m just a little tired.”

Suga frowns. “I told that exact same lie two hours ago.” He ignores Oikawa’s flinch and continues, “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Again, Oikawa clams up. _Dependable_ , Suga thinks to himself. _Dependable. Patient. Deep breaths, Koushi, he’ll come around when he wants to_. But no matter how many deep breaths he takes, the restless buzzing he feels in the tips of his fingers overpowers him and he pulls Oikawa down on top of him into a full body embrace, wrapping his legs around Oikawa’s hips to keep him still. If he isn’t going to open up himself, then Suga will smother him with love until he does. He pushes Oikawa’s face into the crook of his neck and runs his fingers through his hair. “What’s up with you, Tooru?”

He feels a rush of hot breath against his neck as Oikawa sighs, followed by the vibration of Oikawa mumbling something under his breath. “What was that?” Suga asks in his best vice-captain voice.

Instead of the reply he expects when he feels Oikawa opens his mouth, he feels a light scrape of teeth, before Oikawa grinds his hips down and sucks on the spot he discovered last week, right on one of his tendons where his neck meets his chest, the one that makes his toes curl even now. But Suga resists the urge to give in to the feeling completely and places his hands on either side of Oikawa’s head, pulling him away.

Suga glares. Oikawa pouts.

Hands still squeezing Oikawa’s head, he pulls him down for a quick open-mouthed kiss, then shoves him back to their previous position. “No more kissing,” he demands, “not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Oikawa’s pout morphs into a frown, nose scrunching up. Suga holds his stare, unblinking, and raises an eyebrow. Oikawa breaks first, and Suga once again thanks his rowdy teammates for training him for this.

“I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Suga squints up at the boy still hovering above him. His face has softened into a resigned, indifferent, flat, completely uncharacteristic expression. He didn’t think it was possible, but Oikawa looks more tired than he did just a few minutes ago. Suga strokes his thumb across the dark bags under Oikawa’s eye.

Oikawa leans into his hand and presses a kiss to his palm. Suga presses slightly harder, suddenly desperate to give his friend any comfort. “I’m so tired Suga-chan,” Oikawa breathes.

Suga feels his stomach swoop. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Like… I don’t know.” Oikawa shakes his head and starts to lower himself again, but Suga keeps his other hand pressed against his shoulder, keeping them slightly apart. “I don’t even know how to describe it.”

A long, still, moment passes. Suga resumes stroking Oikawa’s cheek and waits. “Can you try?”

Oikawa takes a deep breath and lets it out in a shaky sigh. He drops one elbow and stuffs himself between Suga and the back of the couch. “It’s like…” he begins, but then stops. Suga scoots over to make room, and turns to his side to face Oikawa, sandwiching him in. His back feels cold. He kind of wishes Oikawa were on top of him again. His weight was reassuring. Grounding. It kept him from floating off and spiraling into worst case scenarios about why his friend was so down, how long he’s been down, what it could mean, what he could do about it…

Just as Suga feels himself come untethered and begins to float away from his best friend who obviously needed him _here_ , he feels an arm drape itself across his waist and around his back. Now he’s the one who wants to crawl inside Oikawa’s shirt like he’s a security blanket.

Before he can make a move, Oikawa places his other hand in the middle of Suga’s chest. “It’s like...” the shakiness in Oikawa’s voice snaps him back to the moment. “Inside. Everything is cold and echo-y. Like when you leave the door open in the gym on a windy day?”

Suga nods, urging his friend to continue.

“Like here,” Oikawa drags his hand down to rest on Suga’s belly, “there’s a hurricane and it’s messing everything up. And here…” he curls his hand and points between Suga’s ribs, right below his sternum, “it’s the worst. It feels like…” Oikawa trails off again.

Nodding slightly in understanding, Suga takes Oikawa’s hand in his, curling their fingers together. “Like how it feels when you’re behind in a game, and it’s your turn to serve, and it hits the net?”

Oikawa whines in agreement, surging forward and draping himself over Suga again, burrowing his face into the crook of his neck. Suga sighs and begins stroking Oikawa’s hair again, squeezing his hand tight when he feels wetness on his skin and Oikawa’s shoulders begin shuddering.

Suga holds his friend and tries to focus on the feeling of his friend in his arms, and the task that came with it. If he can focus on keep Oikawa from falling apart, then he doesn’t have to worry about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clenches fist* mmm, Suga:Daichi and Suga:Oikawa parallels. fucking good. also, will Daichi ever get to have an uninterrupted conversation with suga? who knows ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> if anyone has a scenario they’d like to see in this fic, I’m open to suggestions! no guarantees but I promise to try? my outline is fucking CRAZY but there’s always room for more ╰( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・ﾟ
> 
> fun fact: the phonecall scene & parts of next chapter were the first things I outlined!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last of the fluff I have planned, so buckle up y’all. next chapter is a doozy. still taking suggestions for scenarios tho! maybe I’ll fit in some happier stuff? other than that, thank you again to every reviewer. I love talking to each and every one of you!!! y’all are also seeing shit I haven’t seen and I’ve already taken note for future chaps!!! double thanks!!!
> 
> btw sry in advance this chap is all over the fucking place.
> 
> outdated song of the week: [hello/how are you madokaueno english ver](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFHnJHFspP8)

Suga is roused from sleep both slowly and all at once. The first thing he comes aware of is a bright light shining right into his eyes. The next is the crick in his neck, then Oikawa splayed across the length of his entire body. He brings one half numb arm up from where it’s hanging off the couch to rest on Oikawa’s back, reveling in the weight of his friend. He can barely move like this, but it’s like having a weighted blanket. He feels secure and comfortable.

He blinks a few more times and tries to maneuver so that he can wipe the crust from his eyes, but when he turns, he catches sight of the clock on the TV box and—

“OIKAWA GET OFF ME!”

Like him, Oikawa takes a while to wake up. He snuggles into Suga first, smacks his dry lips, then breathes a puff of morning breath right into Suga’s face.

“Oh my god!” Suga shrieks, pushing his hand into Oikawa’s face to push it, and hopefully him, away. “Quit it with your toxic gas! I have to go!”

Slowly, Oikawa sits up. He blinks dazedly around the room, down at Suga whose lap he’s still sitting on, then back around the room. Groaning, Suga sits up now that he’s not being pinned down and pulls himself out from underneath the other setter. “Come on! Can you drive me to the school? I bet I could make it in time to open the gym if we speed a little…” Suga mutters, trying to plot out the quickest route to get to school from Oikawa’s house. He starts making his way upstairs determined to make it to practice on time, but when he turns around, he realizes that Oikawa is now leaned against the back of the couch, dozing off again.

_Lord grand me the patience…_ He decides to abandon the sleeping boy and runs to Oikawa’s room. He sees his gym bag on the floor rips the zipper open. Fuck. He had been planning on doing laundry last night, and completely forgot after Oikawa invited him over. Suga stuffs his practice clothes, some sweat stained, some weirdly stiff and crusty from god knows what, and eyes Oikawa’s open closet.

He thanks the stars for his ever-generous friend and the fact that Oikawa had given him free reign over his entire closet. Usually Suga only took advantage of the comfortable sleep shirts, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He throws on the first white t-shirt he sees, pulls his team jacket on (thankfully it’s not _too_ stinky), and grabs a pair of elasticized shorts that will hopefully fit him without falling down mid-jump.

Stinky bag in hand, along with pants for Oikawa as well, he runs downstairs and tosses them at Oikawa who is now thankfully sitting upright. Suga rummages in the kitchen for some coffee. Hopefully it’ll wake Oikawa up enough so that he can drive to Karasuno without crashing into anything. When he finally gets it brewing, he runs back upstairs, tries to simultaneously wash his face and brush his teeth (Suga knows that there’s no way he’ll be able to un-puff his eyes and cheeks after how late they stayed up last night crying, and settles for splashing cold water on his face and using a generous amount of Oikawa’s fancy face wash), then heads back down. In a flash he divides the pot into two large mugs; he sticks one under Oikawa’s nose and forces them both to down their cups—temperature be damned.

The coffee works its magic because suddenly, Oikawa’s eyes are more than just pinched slits on his face. He finally seems to understand the urgency of the situation and bounces off the couch. He pulls on the pants over his UFO patterned boxers as Suga grabs the helmets. He clips his in, and while Oikawa is too distracted with his pants to complain about his hair being ruined, he clips his on as well.

They’re out the door in record time. Suga focuses on trying to hold on to Oikawa with one hand and his duffel with the other, and ignores the fact that Oikawa is definitely pushing his scooter to its limits right now.

After a cursory glance to make sure that there are no adults nearby, Oikawa rides his moped right through the back entrance of the school and pulls up just a few feet away from the gym’s back doors.

When Suga steps off the bike, he has to steady himself on Oikawa’s shoulders, knees suddenly wobbly now that the adrenaline has worn off. Suga breathes a sigh when he realizes that none of his teammates have arrived yet.

He wraps his arms around Oikawa’s shoulders, and the other boy melts into his arms. “Come over tonight?”

Suga glances around to make sure that no one has arrived in the past few seconds and presses a quick kiss to Oikawa’s cheek. “You have afternoon practice, right?” Suga asks.

Oikawa nods, leans back, and purses his lips. Suga rolls his eyes and complies with the request for a kiss. “Don’t stay after too long,” he chides, “I’ll head to your house around four.”

…

Practice goes like it always does: intense, lots of shouting, and lots of encouragement. With the Spring High prelims weighing so heavily on everyone’s minds, it’s no wonder everyone’s dialed up to eleven. Despite this, Coach Ukai makes sure that they all stay grounded, so they go through the routine. They practice serving, spiking, and blocking as a team, then he’s finally able to set. Despite the stress and hurt this game sometimes gives him, Suga can never deny his love for the position. When he’s called up to sub in for Kageyama during spiking practice, Suga discards his jacket and heads towards center court.

All goes well, he thinks. Asahi and Tanaka high five him, Daichi shoots him a bright, excited smile, and on the other side of the net Narita and Tsukishima are practicing blocks and not completely shutting out his spikers every time.

It feels _fucking_ _good_.

Once everyone has taken their turn, Coach Ukai calls a break.

Suga is mid-sip, extra proud of the sweet soreness in his shoulders (he didn’t usually get so sore and that bothered him, it made him feel like he wasn’t putting in the effort he needed to, but thanks to his outside practices with Oikawa, he feels like he’s been improving—both in the power and accuracy of his sets), when Hinata approaches him.

“U-Um, Suga-san?” Suga pauses and looks at the younger boy. He looks as terrified as he did when they first met at the beginning of the school year.

“Yes, Hinata?” he asks, fully prepared to counsel the first year through whatever he might be facing.

Hinata fidgets, looking anywhere but at Suga’s eyes. “Ah—um, I—”

Just when Suga is about to ask what’s wrong, Nishinoya comes bounding over between him and Hinata, throwing an arm over both of their shoulders. “Suga-san!” he greets. “What’s with your shirt?”

“Huh?”

Nishinoya gestures to the back of his shirt, then points at Suga’s shirt. Next to him, Hinata is holding up his hands and babbling, trying to cover his senpai’s mouth. Despite the vigorous attempt, Noya easily pushes him away. “I thought you were jumping on the custom graphic shirt game, but…” The libero tugs at his shirt and runs his finger across the back. Suga jumps at the sudden contact and turns around, trying and failing to get whatever is written in the back of his shirt into view. Before he can process what little he could see, Nishinoya laughs again and claps Hinata on the back, who has completely shrunken away.

“You’ve got the wrong team on your shirt!”

Suga tugs again, desperate to see, then finally catches a flash of green.

Suga falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He walks to an uninhabited corner of the gym and rips his shirt off, turns it inside out, puts it back on, then runs back to where he dropped his jacket. “You didn’t see _shit_ ,” he hisses at the two boys as he shoves his arms through the sleeves and zips it up to his chin.

He gets a salute from the libero and a, frankly _terrified_ bow from the middle blocker. When his two teammates finally leave, Suga breathes a sigh of relief. As loud as his team could be, they could be surprisingly subtle. Maybe they could just pretend that this didn’t just happen and ignore that little hiccup. Yeah, totally. He came in today with his own, clean, definitely not borrowed from the _captain_ of a rival team, shirt. But the second he lets his guard down and picks up his water bottle again, he hears Daichi clearing his throat.

“Daichi!” Suga greets as he whips around, clasping his arms behind his back instinctively. The plasticky screen printed surface of the Aoba Jousai Men’s VBC logo sticks uncomfortably to the sweat on his back. “What’s up?” Suga cringes internally at his attempt to be nonchalant. When was the last time he told Daichi _What’s up?_ or actually, when was the last time he even used the phrase _What’s up?_ with anyone?

A look of confusion flashes briefly on Daichi’s face but then he schools it into something approaching casually friendly. Oh god. Suga steels himself for a lecture. This is what Daichi always does with Asahi and their underclassmen. Get them to let their guard down with a nice smile, then swoop in for the kill. Suga can’t remember when the last time—if ever—Daichi pulled this with him.

“Come on,” Daichi coughs, this time looking pointedly off to the side and avoiding eye contact. “I’ll lend you one of my shirts,” he mumbles into his fist.

When what Daichi says finally sinks in, Suga can barely keep himself from barreling into Daichi with the force of his hug. “Daichi!” he bawls, arms draped around the other boy, somewhere between grateful friend and damsel newly destressed. “You’re my hero!”

Daichi doesn’t brush him off immediately but smiles and wraps his arms around Suga’s waist, before pulling them apart with a gentle tug. Even sweaty with mid-practice exertion, Suga has to resist the urge to seek out his warmth. Daichi walks the both of them to Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei, quickly explaining the situation (with Suga bashfully gesturing to the back of his shirt) and taking Suga by the hand to pull them both out of the gym.

When they’re far enough from the open doors, Suga droops slightly. At his sudden movement Daichi drops his hand, and Suga droops even more.

“You okay?” Daichi asks. He rests a warm hand on Suga’s hunched back. This time, he doesn’t resist the urge to lean into the touch.

“Oh. My. _Goood_!” Suga groans, letting himself fall into Daichi’s chest. “Did the whole team see?”

He doesn’t hear anything, but the hand that pats his shoulder is enough of an answer.

“Fuck. Well,” he thinks back to Oikawa crying quietly into his chest the night before. The DVD had looped back to the beginning twice before Suga had finally succumbed to sleep, “It was a long night.” Then he remembers the chaos of jolting awake, and the resulting hurricane of activity. “And a long morning,” he adds.

The two of them walk in silence for a little while. At this time of day, this side of campus is nearly empty; but if he strains his ears, Suga can hear the baseball team practicing as well. He thinks about the first and second years practicing their hearts out for Spring Koushien, playing because their senpai can’t.

Then he thinks of those upperclassmen and lets the loneliness echo through his bones. He aches at the idea of being forced to retire from the team so early in the school year. But it’s not, isn’t it? The ex-members of the baseball team have been ripped away from their passion to study for exams. Yet here he is, pulling Daichi, his captain and fellow graduation-bound third year from practice, all because he couldn’t be bothered to remember to wash his damn clothes.

Suga barely notices the distance they’ve covered until they’re walking up the stairs to the club room and the silence is broken.

“About that…” Suga turns to look at Daichi, not sure what he was referring to.

“About?” he asks quietly.

Daichi tugs at the hem of Suga’s shirt; they slow to a stop just a few steps away from the club room doors. “About _this_.”

Still confused, Suga shakes his head. Daichi frowns, and Suga feels a tug at something deep inside him. He’s really not sure what the other boy is talking about, but he scours his stress-fogged brain for any hint of what he did wrong. Really, anything to wipe the disappointment of Daichi’s face.

“Look,” Daichi sighs and gestures vaguely to the side, “I don’t need to know what’s going on between you and Oikawa, but I just need to know that it won’t affect the team when we eventually end up playing against each other.”

“Huh?”

“You know…” Daichi vigorously rubs at the back of his head. Suga thinks that he looks like he’s in actual pain right now with how hard he’s trying to choose his words. “Conflict of interest, and all that,” he forces out. “You can’t go easy on them just because you’re together—”

“What?”

“—or if you break up or something.” Daichi finally turns back to him, Stern Captain Look™ on his face. “You can’t let your emotions cloud your judgement on the court.”

“Wait,” Suga jumps forward and presses his hand against Daichi’s lips, desperate to shut him up for just a _second_ so Suga can ask, “you think we’re going out?”

“Um…” Daichi’s lips vibrate against the tips of Suga’s fingers, his breath warm, just like the rest of him.

He holds his breath and freezes. Suddenly, Suga is suddenly very aware of his sweaty hands and the fact that they’re not as far apart as he thought they were.

“’rn’t ‘ou?”

The words tumble around in Suga’s brain for a moment until he realizes that they’re so garbled because he’s still basically pinching Daichi’s mouth shut. He snatches his hands away and raises them to his mouth; so mortified that he can’t even appreciate the indirect kiss he just received? Experienced? Took?

“Aren’t you?” Daichi repeats, eyebrows furrowing as the tips of his ears redden.

Suga flushes at the realization of what he had done, but the idea of exposing more of his absolutely beet red cheeks is too embarrassing for him to move them.

At his lack of reply, Daichi presses on. “You went on a date with him to the festival, didn’t you? And uh, you…” He gesture’s at Suga’s borrowed shirt.

Suga stares. There’s way too much to process right now, and this groundbreaking indirect kiss ( _his and Daichi’s first kiss!_ the young maiden he keeps buried deep in his heart sings, and feels kind of guilty all at the same time) is somehow the least important thing. Suga feels like he’s been ripped out of his body, and plunged three weeks into the past—when Daichi had asked how long he and Oikawa had been dating and Suga…

He had been interrupted. Oh my god he had been _interrupted_. Michimiya happened, Saeko-nee happened, Iwaizumi happened, and _Oikawa_ happened. Now that he thinks about it, it feels like an entire month’s worth of drama had taken place in that one night, and in the midst of it all he _forgot_ , and Daichi thinks—

“WE’RE NOT!” Daichi flinches back at the sudden outburst. Suga jumps back when he realizes how close he had gotten again, and repeats softer, “We’re not. We’re not dating, we’re just really close.” Suga feels his voice get quieter and quieter, suddenly embarrassed at himself and at the situation. This feels way too much like some teen romance and he’s really not in the mood to get his hopes up only to have them dashed by a cute girl with short hair and a short skirt.

He lets the silence continue for as long as he can bear, until he dares to glance up at Daichi. The other boy has a look on his face that Suga can’t quite parse the meaning of. He gets no help when the only thing Daichi says is, “Oh.”

After a brief awkward silence, Daichi steps past him and into the club room. Without a word he heads to his locker.

Desperate not to leave it at that, Suga clears his throat. Daichi doesn’t look his way when he does, so Suga’s eyes fall to his shoes. “We have a lot in common, so we talk a lot.” Suga can’t help but feel the urge to suddenly clarify his relationship with Oikawa. He knows that he shouldn’t have to explain his relationship with his best friend, but… The hopeful part of him wants Daichi to know that they’re not dating. Just in case. “His parents are away for the weekend and I went over to keep him company.” In case Daichi… Wants to know that information? “That’s it, I promise.”

“Oh. Okay. Um…” Suga hears Daichi rummage in his locker. “Good to know.” A soft shirt is placed into his hands. “I’ll uh, let you change.”

Before he can bring himself to look up, Daichi is already gone.

Oikawa ☆⌒ (･ω<)  
  
**Suga:** heading home. gota get a bag n do laundry I’ll msg when I’m done  
  
14:27  
**Suga:** btw how creepy is it to smell your crush’s shirt when ur doing laundry?  
  
**Suga:** askig for a friend  
**Read** 14:29  
16:32  
**Oikawa:** just finished  
  
**Oikawa:** don’t eat dinner my mom left soba in the fridge  
  
**Suga:** don't ignore my question you fucking coward  
  
**Suga:** but yummy (っ˘ڡ˘ς)  
  
**Suga:** soba is appropriate  
  
**Suga:** we have to celebrate  
  
**Oikawa:** (ง ื▿ ื)ว  
  
**Oikawa:** does it have anything to do with your creepy shirt smeling fetish?  
  
**Suga:** let’d just say developments have been made on operation chance ball  
  
**Oikawa:** (≖ ͜ʖ≖)  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIGH I wanted to write the sleepover scene (spoiler, it was gonna be porn) but I wanted to keep the T rating more. I’ll link it when it’s ready sorryyyy
> 
> while waiting for the next update please read [itoshi no nekokke](https://myreadingmanga.info/itoshi-no-nekokke-vol-01-eng/) it’s SO pure and the opposite of this shitshow. it’s 5 vols ongoing + [prequel](https://myreadingmanga.info/kumota-haruko-itoshi-no-nekokke-eng/) (the prequel is fucking SAD tho and made me want to write a bittersweet kuroken thing based on it) ((btw if anyone wants any other doujin recs, i have a million.))


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all… last chapter’s comments were so nice and I feel bad bc this chapter is a mess. yall keep pointing out things that I didn’t notice bc I’m a dumbass bitch… I’m putting myself in ur care for the rest of this fic/series. please keep finding things so that I know what to write next!
> 
> anyway, in case anyone is sensitive to it, please mind the newest tags. there’s an anxiety attack n accidental/unintentional self-harm in here!!
> 
> super relevant songs of the week: [rolling girl lollia's cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFwnPnfZvQo) and [battery by ryan caraveo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rl41OBPeqaY)

Sometimes Oikawa gets frustrated. With himself, with the world, with other people… But in moments like this, there’s no one he hates more than himself.

Unlike Karasuno who had just won the Prefectural Preliminaries and were finally headed to the Prefectural Qualifiers in October, Seijou has been seeded at the Qualifiers for some time now and cut back on practices over break. For the better part of August Suga had been practicing with him, but now that they’ve won, Suga has finally chosen to start on the homework he had been neglecting all summer.

When he told Oikawa he had laughed, because if he had heard that Sugawara Koushi was the type to ignore schoolwork in favor of volleyball practice, he wouldn’t have believed it. But now he’s not so used to practicing alone, and he’s not laughing.

He had gone to take a sip from his water, trying to catch his breath so he could drag the newly empty cart of volleyballs to the other side of the net, clean up all of his failed attempts at a more accurate jump serve, and do it all over again. It’s not like there’s anyone to stop him. They didn’t have practice today, Suga’s busy, and it’s Iwa-chan’s three-month anniversary today. Not that he would know. They’ve barely seen each other outside of practice all summer.

Oikawa sighs and picks up another ball- but a sudden pulse of pain makes him stumble and sends him crashing to the floor. The breath is knocked out of his lungs as he lands, but the pain leaves as quickly as it arrived.

Dazed, he shifts to a sitting position. He rolls his wrists and elbows to check for any injuries, and sighs in relief when his search comes up with nothing. He stretches his left knee and comes up good, but then he freezes. A drop of sweat runs down his neck and into his shirt. Each breath burns in his throat and feels like it stops just short of his lungs.

Desperate for physical contact, any sensation to distract from the growing panic in his belly, Oikawa reaches for one of the stray volleyballs and clutches it to his midsection. He drums his fingers across the synthetic leather surface of the ball, tapping out random patterns and rhythms to keep his fingers occupied. He just needs to keep himself distracted until it passes—

But it’s too much. His right arm claws at the white knee supporter. He scrunches it down to get at the skin underneath, slicker than the rest of his leg from being trapped underneath the tight fabric, no matter how breathable it was advertised to be.

He scratches single-mindedly, determined to rid himself of the crawling, buzzing, itch underneath his skin. It’s refreshing, the relief that it brings; the only discomfort comes from the back of his hand chafing against the top hem of the knee supporter.

He hates that damned thing. It’s brought him nothing but annoyance at best, and pain at worst. The thought of having to go through the rest of his volleyball career having to wear the thing to keep himself from falling apart makes him want to vomit. He hugs his knees closer and presses his thighs and chest together so the volleyball in between them presses against his sternum. He presses as hard as he can because the more weight is on his chest, the more likely he can suppress the hurricane brewing in his stomach. He’s less likely to be ripped apart from the inside by the raging wind.

It works for a moment—or a few nonconsecutive moments as he struggles with the catch and release of that perfect amount of pressure; feeling secure but teetering between not enough and too much pressure that it makes him feel nauseous. He’s so focused on attempting to ground himself that the sudden loss of friction at his fingertips surprises him.

Then the pain starts.

He doesn’t want to look. His knee hurts, but not in the usual deep, internal pain of a strained ligament; nor is it the shallow, achy pain of bruised knees after diving practice. It’s sharp- a fire concentrated in a patch by his knee, just below the fabric of the knee supporter. It hurts, but it itches. It still itches, and he can’t stop. As if his body has completely pulled itself free from his mind, Oikawa can’t stop himself when his hand migrates to the lower hem of the sleeve, on the top part of his calf.

He wishes he could put all the blame on his _damn knee_ and how it’s fucked up his life. He wishes that he could just gouge it out or pick at the skin until it bleeds, and he would be fine. But it’s just another part of him, and it doesn’t work like that. It’s not even the main issue.

It’s his fucking _brain_ that’s the problem. He’s been like this for as long as he can remember. Even before the whole ordeal with Kageyama at Kitagawa Daiichi, he couldn’t stand himself. His family is fine. They’ve always been supportive and never pushed him too hard. It has always been Oikawa himself, that pushed him too hard—like this sprained knee that would’ve healed by now if he didn’t overwork it so much.

Thoughts like that fly around until he’s developed a list of each grievance he’s caused to himself for the past eighteen years. It feels like there’s a wind tunnel inside his head, like there’s airplane turbulence but his brain is the plane and his thoughts are people being thrown around like ragdolls.

He fucks _everything_ up. If he wasn’t such a _cowardassholebastard_ then he would have either a) been able to confess to Iwa-chan and deal with the consequences like an adult, or b) fucking GET OVER this stupid crush and stop letting it ruin is entire life.

Honestly, he’s just mad at this point. Why did it even have to be Iwa-chan? How could his brain let his heart pervert their relationship so much that he could lose him forever? He doesn’t think he can live without Iwa-chan. They’ve been together since before birth and now… If he was normal, he could have just accepted Iwa-chan’s relationship. It’s normal for a boy to fall in love with a girl. It was bound to happen eventually.

But now he’s stuck with the lovesick record scratches that his heart does whenever Iwa-chan is close, and the anxiety that comes with the thought of _what if this is the last time I see this?_

If only he could be more _normal_. He could be dating a nice girl right now, or literally be hung up on anyone other than his childhood best friend. He thinks of Suga. Suga with his pretty face, contagious, heaving laughter, and tight hugs. Oikawa thinks they might be soulmates with how close they’ve become in such a short time. Why can’t he just fall in love with Suga? Or maybe he should just let him go. Let him live his own life without Oikawa there to fuck it up. He needs to learn to let people go. Then he wouldn’t be in this mess right now, unable to get up because apparently his body has completely stopped responding to his brain.

And isn’t that terrifying? Sure, his brain might be a mess, but at least his body works. But what if it doesn’t? What if he really blows out his knee before he can make it to the show? Or what if he gets there and gets injured early on? Then he’d really have nothing. If only he was a genius, like that damn Kageyama who is definitely going to go pro. But geniuses like that make his bones rattle. So selfish, and so self-absorbed. If there’s one thing Oikawa has over him, it’s work ethic. He’ll get there. He’ll work himself to the bone if that’s what it takes.

“OIKAWA!”

Oikawa is momentarily snapped out of his spiraling train of thought and instinctively digs his nails into his already raw skin. He turns his head towards the noise and is greeted with sight of Iwaizumi running full tilt at him. Before he can even process what he’s seeing, there’s a hand taking his and tugging.

The adrenaline associated with surprise wears off, and the panicked turbulence in his brain transforms into a thick unease. With blurry eyes he considers their connected hands. He missed the contrast: Iwa-chan’s strong, veiny hands and his own pale hands. Has Iwa-chan always been this tanned? Have his nails always been this dirty? Usually Oikawa’s nails are perfectly filed and kept short, but right now there’s gunk under his nails. He has to remember to wash them later, he thinks distantly.

“What the FUCK are you doing!?” Iwaizumi jerks his shoulder roughly, and all Oikawa can do is stare. From this close, he can track a bead of sweat grow and run from his temple until it drips down his chin. He follows it until it lands in his lap. He catches a flash of reddish pink, and his eyes wander until they land once again on their hands.

“I…”

Iwaizumi shakes him again and he flinches back, a sudden wave of terror seeping through his skin at the sudden intrusion. “Oikawa…”

He sees Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, then squeeze shut; watches his mouth shift from a frown, scowl, grimace, then a strained smile. He’s still not sure exactly what the big deal is, but Iwaizumi drops his hand and stands up with a start. “Stay here, okay?” Oikawa blinks and nods. “Just… Don’t look. Don’t touch anything, okay?” he adds before leaving.

Once Iwaizumi is out of sight, having run out of the gym in a flurry, Oikawa looks down. It’s looks… Weird. The synthetic fabric of the knee supporter looks like it had something splashed on it, a dingy pinkish patch with a rust brown perimeter around it. Curious, he pulls the sleeve off. The pain barely registers as the inside fabric rubs against his skin.

Despite the detached, numb dilution of sensation, as if he is only in control of himself from the arms up, the sight tugs at something in him. It looks like road rash, a dark red stain on the pale skin on the side and front of his leg, extending from the lower half of his thigh to the top of his calf and shin; he can pick out individual scratches too. He runs a finger along one of them, slick with sweat and miniscule droplets of blood. He sees his fingertips; suddenly the gunk under his nails is more malicious than it was before. He wants to throw up.

Oikawa turns away, buries his face in his good knee, and digs his nails into his leg. Iwaizumi was right. What _did_ he do? He sits there for some amount of time, unsure of how long, but enough that he starts to feel a pulsing heat radiating from the skin of his leg.

Calloused hands tug at his upper arms, urging him to uncurl. Iwaizumi pries his fingers away from his leg, so gentle that Oikawa’s heart breaks. This is probably how Iwa-chan treats his girlfriend, he can’t help but think. Except _she_ doesn’t have to have a full-on breakdown to see Iwa-chan’s soft side.

He feels the rough weight of a wet towel, first scrubbing at his fingers, then dabbing at his knee. Despite the care Iwaizumi takes, it still stings.

When he finishes, Iwaizumi leaves him be as he picks up the rest of the scattered volleyballs and locks them in the storage closet. Eventually, he pulls Oikawa up and brings him to the club room. Iwaizumi says something about locking up the gym as he walks out with Oikawa’s spare key. Alone, he sluggishly pulls on a pair of track pants on top of his shorts. He’s still not sure what happened, brain too foggy and overstimulated to process anything other than the smooth fabric sticking to his damp skin; it’s too much of a bother.

He lets Iwaizumi guide him out of the club room and lets him hold onto the keys after he locks up. They fall into step, side by side, on their usual route home from school. It’s so familiar that he has trouble breathing over the tightness in his chest.

They walk in silence for a few minutes until Iwaizumi asks, “You good?”

Oikawa wants to laugh at how awkward and stunted he sounds. He plasters on a smile, the one that he knows Iwa-chan knows is fake and absolutely hates, and nods. “Yeah.”

He forces himself to continue the conversation; brings up his experimenting with spicy food and laughs when Iwaizumi mentions that Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla was on TV the other night.

For a second, he can pretend like they’re back to normal. But that’s the problem. He doesn’t even want his Iwa-chan back. He wants _Hajime_ who he can kiss, and have sex with, go on dates with, and spend the rest of his life with. That’s how selfish he is. Despite the tiny part of him preening in satisfaction at claiming this tiny bit of Iwa-chan’s attention; or perhaps because of the shame he held for that part, he can’t bite his tongue before he cuts Iwaizumi off and asks, “What are you even doing here?”

Iwaizumi looks at him curiously, like it should be obvious. “It’s Monday night and you weren’t at your house. Where else would you be?” Oikawa sees him shrug out of the corner of his eye, and speeds up slightly. What perfect timing. Sure he’s been practicing every Monday night like usual, but this is the first time he’s done it alone in the past few weeks. Of course, Iwa-chan would walk in on him on the worst possible day.

“No,” Oikawa sighs, “I _mean_ , what are you doing here?” He clenches his fist in the loose fabric of his pant leg, determined not to look back. “Isn’t tonight your monthaversary or something?”

He hears the catch in Iwaizumi’s step as he pauses, then the following stomps as he tries to catch up. “We had a fight,” he explains. “She didn’t want to see me tonight.”

Oh. Okay. Even though he expected that answer, or something similar, hearing it come straight from Iwa-chan hurt more than he expected. Thankful for the space between them, Oikawa bites his lip and resolutely looks ahead. He knows what he wants to say. He wants to cry and yell, _So you’re only here because she didn’t want you?_ He wants to plead with Iwa-chan, to make him spell it out no matter how much it hurt, _I’m your second choice now?_ But he can’t hurt his best friend like that. He doesn’t think he can even open his mouth without choking out a sob.

They continue the walk in silence. If Oikawa’s breathing became more strained at one point, then the exaggeration of his limp could be taken as him breathing through a sudden spike of pain.

“Plus,” Iwaizumi adds after a long moment, “I feel like it’s been a while since we’ve hung out outside of practice. I miss you.”

The sudden rush of cold running through his body makes him pause. He definitely did not expect himself to react like this. He thought that when Iwa-chan finally said those words he would be overjoyed; that he wouldn’t be capable of doing anything other than kissing his ~~best friend~~ ~~crush~~ best friend’s feet, grateful that Iwaizumi has finally deemed him worthy of his presence again. He thought that he would yell _I miss you too_! He was also expecting a wave of disgust at himself for falling for such a cliché trope of young love.

Instead he feels nothing other than that chill. His heart doesn’t skip, his palms don’t sweat, and his eyes don’t dilate. It’s almost as if he really doesn’t care if Iwaizumi stays or not. At _that_ his stomach churns. Isn’t this a good thing? Is he finally getting over his crush? But what about the alternative? What if this indifference is temporary? When this numbness wears off and Iwaizumi is still there, will his heart pound? Will he be able to cool the blush on his cheeks when Iwaizumi eventually succumbs to sleep against his shoulder? He doesn’t know which is worse, but the idea of going through all of that lovesickness sounds tiring.

It was bad enough every lunch period, feeling his heart race in anticipation every time the door to the roof opened, hoping that whoever came through was his Iwa-chan—then the empty, swooping drop of his stomach when it finally became clear that he wasn’t coming. After that, even the cream puffs Makki usually hoarded tasted wrong. He had hoped that summer break would give him some breathing room, but even without having to worry about interacting with Iwaizumi, it’s still too much.

It’s not like they’ve gone completely no-contact. Iwa-chan texts him almost as much as he texts Suga, but it doesn’t feel right anymore. His texts don’t feel like cuddling into a warm blanket. Instead, he ignores notifications and, more often than not, only forces himself to reply when he’s built up the resolve to. Or when he feels guilty enough at ignoring him for so long.

Still, there’s a part of him that revels in the attention. Part of him that loves seeing the notification for an unread text or unheard voicemail. It makes him feel like Iwa-chan is the one that can’t live without his attention.

It makes him sick.

What kind of sick fuck thinks like that?

He doesn’t have time to get caught up in teenage puppy love—especially one that is sure to end badly, more than it will do him any good. He’s got exams to study for (the fact that college is only a backup plan doesn’t mean anything if he can’t get in), a professional volleyball career to kick start, and a reputation to uphold at school.

Plus, he has other friends to think about. Like Makki and Matsun, and Suga. Again, fucking Sugawara Koushi. A gorgeous angel, secretly snarky, incredible in bed, with an inferiority complex a mile wide. Suga has done so much for him in the past few months, comforting him and commiserating with, humoring him… And what did he do? Called him the second his parents leave for vacation because apparently the youngest Oikawa couldn’t be home alone without having a fucking breakdown.

That night started shockingly similar to this. They had team practice, and like usual, Oikawa stayed back. Keeping with his new routine, Iwaizumi headed out with the rest of the team, and left Oikawa in the gym with the promise that he would text later that night.

He had no plans, which was less common these days. Even if Iwa-chan was occupied, he could hang out with his family or practice and hang out with Suga; but that night he didn’t want to. He had planned on staying as late as he could—he even brought his scooter that day so he wouldn’t have to walk home—because his parents had left to spend the weekend with Toshio’s family.

It was fine. He finished serving a whole cart of volleyballs, picked them up, then set up some cones to practice his setting accuracy. It should have been perfect. Sure, not all his sets hit the mark every time, but his knee wasn’t aching, and he wasn’t particularly tired or sore.

So, when the sinking feeling in his stomach started to claw its way up to his chest, throat, and down his legs, it came as a surprise.

He stopped, mid-toss, and sat himself on the ground. It got harder and harder to breathe, as if the noise of the blood rushing through his ears was taking up too much space in in his brain to let him take in any more air.

He ended up crawling, shamelessly dragging himself halfway across the empty gymnasium to grab his phone and dial Suga’s number. He wasn’t sure what else to do. While he waited for the click, he cradled his head in between his knees and tried to calm down.

“Hey Suga-chan, what are you up to?” he asked, barely higher than a whisper because, for some inexplicable reason, the idea of shattering the quiet atmosphere shook him to his very core.

“Practice just let up so we’re getting dinner at Coach Ukai’s. Why? What’s wrong? What happened?”

 _He’s busy. He’s tired. Don’t bother him._ He thought. But he couldn’t resist asking, “Nothing, I just… Um, did you want to come over tonight to watch tape?”

There was a pause. Oikawa was fully prepared to spend the night there if he was unable to drag himself home; but against all odds, Suga agreed. Guilty for dragging his friend along after he had just finished his own practice, Oikawa offered to pick him up from school.

Watching tape had been a complete excuse, but he set it up anyway. Unable to resist, he pulled on Iwaizumi’s sweatshirt again—the same one he had been meaning to return for months now. The soft, comfortable fabric provided comfort, uneasy because it felt tenuous like his stomach would lurch and he would throw up all over and ruin it, but a comfort he needed, nonetheless. Especially with the rough, stiff, black Velcro knee brace. He usually wore it wore outside of practice so he should have been fine with it, but it just didn’t sit right at that moment.

Being the caring-but-pushy friend he was, Suga got him to talk. Oikawa forced out a description of what he had been feeling. He wasn’t sure how accurate or understandable it was, but when Suga agreed and even added his own interpretation of the thrashingswoopingpainful _wrong_ feeling in his stomach, he completely broke. He cried until he fell asleep.

Looking back on it now, Oikawa is fucking _humiliated_ at his past self. How could he push something like that onto Suga, when he obviously had his own issues to deal with? Hell, Suga had been just about to play in the preliminaries at that point, and Oikawa just had to distract him and pile even more shit onto his plate.

What kind of friend is he? Pushing Iwaizumi away, neglecting Makki and Mattsun, and basically _abusing_ Suga’s kindness? He’s fucking trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIKE YIKES REMEMBER WHEN OIK’S BIGGEST PROBLEM WAS HOW SEXY THE ONCELER WAS?? CHAPTER 2 WHAT??
> 
> also if anyone is annoyed with me switching from iwa-chan and iwaizumi pls tell me so I can like make it all the same. I was trying to go for like iwaizumi=narration, iwa-chan=oikawa thoughts (which eventually shift to iwaizumi) but idk lol!
> 
> **double update!!! next chap coming this weekend!!!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to every commenter y’all really went ham in the last chapter. hopefully I’ve addressed some of your points. I seriously love every one of you!! I hope y’all browse the comment section because everyone is so WONDERFUL and I want us to build the best little community on ao3
> 
> that being said, shout out to ao3 user @franciscovibes for being an enabler, and condolences to ao3 user @pacattack777. u tried to warn me about the stairs bro…..
> 
> songs with the general vibe: [hallelujah renee dominique cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbF5FiijpkU), [asleep Emily browning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xw4D3UuA0Fg), and [girl crush harry styles cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rroc2y9if_Q)

“Sorry for the intrusion!”

Huh, haven’t heard that in a while. It used to be a common occurrence: Iwaizumi visiting the Oikawa household. There was even a period during elementary school where he announced _I’m home!_ whenever he arrived, whether or not he was with Tooru or just popping in—but it’s been so long since he last came over that Oikawa can’t help but twitch.

He doesn’t wait for Iwaizumi after he pulls off his shoes, to go inside the house. It’s empty, he knows. His dad probably left some food before leaving for work, and his mom had already left when he woke up that morning. He heads straight to his room, mumbling something like _Make yourself comfortable_ as if this is just another time that Iwaizumi is coming over. Despite it barely being late afternoon, he pulls out a pair of pajamas. Knowing that his parents won’t be home until late, he doubts that he’s going to leave his bed after he gets in. Hopefully, Iwaizumi won’t stay for long; he mentioned something about movie night on the walk home, but Oikawa hopes he’s forgotten about it by now.

He turns the shower on as hot as it will go and stands in the spray for as long as he can. Each drop feels like a needle prick, treading the line between unbearable, and the good kind of hurt. As it runs down his body, the hot water burns particularly strong at the raw patch of skin on his leg. Only after he feels his skin go numb from the heat, does he turn the temperature down and reach for the washcloth.

It wasn’t so noticeable on the walk home, but as he scrubs at his arms and torso, he feels a soreness setting into his shoulders. Done with that, he chances a glance down. It’s both not as bad, and so much worse than he expected. It’s raw and red, an unsightly berry colored rash on the middle of his leg. The main raw patch of skin is centered around his knee, but some of the stray scratches extend up to mid-thigh and his calf, past where his knee supporter can cover.

There’s another thing to add onto the list of things he’ll have to figure out. But at least he’s not bleeding.

Oikawa sighs and lathers the washcloth again, gnawing on his lip to keep from gasping in pain at the sudden shock when the fabric touches his right knee. He hisses through his teeth as he pushes through the pain. If he scrubs a little harder in his frustration, then that’s nobody’s business. He’ll be wearing pants, anyway.

Once changed, Oikawa creeps down the hallway back to his room. It’s not that he’s ever particularly loud or quiet at home, but the weariness combined with the thought of having to sit with Iwaizumi for an undetermined amount of time kind of makes him want to curl up and hide under the kotatsu like he used to when they were nine, and Iwaizumi was chasing him around with a weird bug he found. (In the back of his mind, he wonders if Iwaizumi’s kids will share his love for nature, or if they’ll be more like their mother. Whoever she ends up being, she’ll probably be a perfect _yamato nadeshiko_ ; everything Oikawa isn’t.)

Oikawa hears Iwaizumi’s voice through the cracked door: “I don’t even think I can say it… No…” He wonders who Iwaizumi is talking to. “All I know is that there’s something wrong.” That narrows it down. Oikawa’s lungs constrict at the thought of what Iwaizumi could be talking about—and who he could be telling it to.

“I think he had a breakdown or something.”

Oikawa frowns. He wants to barge into the room, to demand what Iwaizumi is trying to do, but that would just make him look as unstable as he thinks Iwaizumi is saying he is. He decides to wait until the conversation is over, because he has a sneaking suspicion as to who is on the other side of the line. Maybe he can convince Iwaizumi to call back and say that he was exaggerating.

“There was _blood_.”

He hears the tremble in Iwaizumi’s voice. What the fuck. Again, he resists the urge to enter the room. What type of person is Iwaizumi trying to make him out to be? He’s blowing this out of proportion.

“A few days. The rest of the week at least.”

A pause. Oikawa takes a deep breath.

“Thank you, Coach.”

He waits for the sigh of relief that always comes after Iwaizumi hangs up the phone before pushing the door open.

Iwaizumi turns to look at him with wide eyes. “Hey!” he greets. Oikawa doesn’t return the smile, and his face falls. “Um… You heard that?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa grits his teeth, “I did.”

Iwaizumi eyes Oikawa warily, as if he can avoid what’s coming. “Before you say anything—”

Oikawa scoffs. “That’s a pretty shitty thing to do,” he says with a sneer. “A _vice-captain_ talking about his _captain_ to the coaches.” Oikawa emphasizes their titles with a hiss even though the rank of captain or vice-captain has never meant anything to them. They’re a team; they’ve always been equals, just like how the rest of the third years work together to lead the younger players, regardless of inclusion on the starting lineup. Plus, he knows that Iwaizumi was the coaches’ first choice for captain and gave it up for Oikawa. But none of that matters right now. “What will the kouhai think? I bet they’re gonna say that you’re jealous of me and—”

Iwaizumi glares; “You and I both know that’s not what this is about,” he hisses. “Just let me explain.”

“No! You had NO right to do that!” Oikawa explodes. His face feels so hot; it completely overshadows the controlled, seething bitterness he felt bubbling just a few seconds earlier.

“It was for your own good!” Iwaizumi counters.

“My _own good_!? What do even you know about that?”

Iwaizumi steps back, furrowing his brows. Oikawa sees his fists clench and unclench at his sides, and a deep, tiny, dark part of him hopes that Iwaizumi will sock him right in the jaw; anything to ease this tension. He knows that his tongue will only get sharper from here, and without proper retaliation, he might say something that he never meant to say out loud. But Iwaizumi doesn’t hit him. Instead, he growls out a, “Hey, don’t blame me if we’re not hanging out as much. You’re the one who’s been distant all term!” that feels like a punch to the gut.

He doubles down and yells back, “Well _I’m_ not the one who abandoned my friends to hang out with my new girlfriend!”

Iwaizumi scoffs and, when Oikawa sees him roll his eyes, has to hold _himself_ back from smacking Iwaizumi. “You act like you’ve never ditched me for a girl before.” Immediately, Oikawa hates the clipped holier-than-thou tone he’s taken, but Iwaizumi continues before he can say anything back. “ _You’re_ the one that’s always zoning out and ignoring me!” Iwaizumi takes a step forward and roughly pokes a finger into the center of Oikawa’s chest. Oikawa glares back and stands his ground. “At least _I_ make an effort to _be_ _there_ when we hang out.”

At that Oikawa flinches back. He knows. He knows he’s been in denial—not about Iwaizumi and his girlfriend, but in denial about Iwaizumi not noticing how he’s been acting. He’s been so obsessed with the fact that someone taking priority over him in his best friend’s life that he’s completely willingly ignored the fact that a girlfriend doesn’t just erase a lifetime of friendship.

(Iwaizumi is a lot more emotionally attuned than anyone—including Oikawa—gives him credit for. Like a few years ago when his fish died, Iwaizumi was at his door with a shoebox grave and flowers in ten minutes. Oikawa ignored the signs of aging in his pet—Jirou-nii was actually Toshio’s from before Oikawa was even born, another hand-me-down when he went to college—but Iwaizumi had noticed and anticipated it. He let Oikawa cry on his shoulder until the sun went down, then stayed over that night, rocking him to sleep and waking him up when he was struggling, trapped in a nightmare.)

He wants to go back to when they were kids, wandering around their neighborhood and playing in the woods during the summer. Before being straight or gay or bi mattered, and before the idea of romance ever crossed their minds. He hates this. He just wants to go back to being best friends with the whole world to conquer. Not this… mess. But he can’t back down now. They need to air this out before Oikawa can ever think about moving on or even going back to any semblance of normal.

He steps forward, poking a finger back at Iwaizumi’s chest and sneering. “Well fucking _excuse me_ for having a life outside of you!” he mocks. “Maybe I’ve got other shit on my plate to think about!”

Iwaizumi stares at him for a second, before stepping back and rolling his eyes again, barking out a harsh laugh. Oikawa curls his finger in and clenches his hand into a fist. “Is that what you call it?” Oikawa steels himself; he knows he’s not going to like whatever’s going to come out of Iwaizumi’s mouth next. “Running yourself into the ground and then fucking around with Karasuno’s backup setter?”

Heat pulses behind Oikawa’s eyes and the next thing he hears is the slam of Iwaizumi’s body against his door. He knows in a fight Iwaizumi could beat him handily, but the adrenaline running through his veins allows him to pin him. “FUCK YOU!” Oikawa roars, his spit and hot breath flying into Iwaizumi’s face.

But Iwaizumi regains his composure almost immediately. “What? I get a girlfriend, so you decide to get a boyfriend?” He eyes Oikawa sharply, and seconds too late, Oikawa remembers once again, their lifelong friendship. Whatever cruel words Oikawa manages to dish out, Iwaizumi has always been able to return it twofold. With the element of surprise gone, Iwaizumi grips at Oikawa’s hands fisted in his collar, and shoves back. Oikawa stumbles, but Iwaizumi has him by the wrists. “Is boyfriend not the right word?” Iwaizumi pulls him up, close enough that their chests are almost touching. In any other situation it would have excited him to no end, but right now, Oikawa’s stomach churns with anxiety. “Are you going to throw him away after a month, just like all of your other toys?”

There it is. If there’s anyone in the world that sticks by the motto _Hit it ‘till it breaks_ as much as Oikawa, it’s Iwaizumi. It just feels different when that _it_ is _him_.

Oikawa feels his knees buckle when Iwaizumi releases him, but he wants to push back. From the looks of it, Iwaizumi isn’t about to back down either. “He’s my friend, you asshole!” Oikawa yells with as much heat as he can muster. “A much better friend than you, apparently!”

“A better friend—” Iwaizumi cuts himself off and scrubs at his face. “I’m just trying to help you here! What do you want me to _say_?” His shoulders drop ever so slightly, and Oikawa can see the fight seeping out of him.

Good. Just another little push, and he can get Iwaizumi out of his house. He can press reset, and by the time school starts next week, they can pretend like this never happened. But then he’d still be MIA for a whole week of practice, and that’s not acceptable. “I want you to call the coach back and say that I’m fine.”

Instantly, Iwaizumi’s face twists back into a frown. “Absolutely not.” He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, then tugs at his hair. “Oikawa I—” he sighs, slumping down again. “I walked in on you mauling your own leg in the gym!” Oikawa flinches but holds his ground despite the fact that his fingertips have gone completely numb. “There was blood,” he pales, and gulps, “I thought you fell and broke something while you were practicing alone.”

Iwaizumi stops and just looks at him. The two boys face off, breath still heaving from their earlier shoving match. After a long moment, Oikawa turns away. “I need you to leave.” He takes a step toward his closet and starts to rummage inside. He doesn’t need to; he knows exactly where the thing he’s looking for is, but he just can’t look at Iwaizumi as he asks him to, “Go apologize and hang out with your girlfriend, or go home.” His hand is _touching_ it, the soft fabric and ghost of a scent that faded away months ago almost brings tears to his eyes. “Anything,” he pleads. “Just get out.”

Behind him, he hears a wet sniffle. He pulls the piece of clothing into his lap.

“I can’t,” Iwaizumi finally breathes. “Oikawa.” he whispers, “Tooru. Please, look at me.”

Oikawa resists the urge to comply, and keeps his eyes glued to the jacket on his lap, tracing the line of every stitch because as much as he doesn’t want to think about it, this could be the last time he’ll be able to hold it.

“Look,” Iwaizumi sighs, “I don’t know what’s going on with you but it’s not good. You’ve been acting weird since the beginning of the school year. Is it like back in middle school?” When no reply comes, Iwaizumi barrels on. “You’re zoned out constantly or so hyper-focused you forget to sleep.” Oikawa scoffs at that; of course he’s been sleeping. He can do nothing but sleep some days.

“I’m worried about you.”

He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, before standing and walking to Iwaizumi. He ignores the twinge in his knee and the raw skin prickling under his flannel pants. “Here,” he holds the worn sweatshirt out, “you left it last time you slept over.”

Oikawa keeps his eyes trained on the jacket, tracking its movement as Iwaizumi gingerly places a hand on it, then keeps it there. He’s willing to bet that Iwaizumi has that surprised look on his face, the same one he still gets whenever Oikawa wakes him up at midnight on his birthday so he can be the first one to greet him and give him a present, even though he’s been doing it for over a decade. It’s an expression he would die to see every day for the rest of his life; but right now, he can’t bring himself to look.

When Iwaizumi speaks, it’s so gentle, such a contrast from their previous yelling, that his voice rings through Oikawa’s brain before he can absorb the meaning of the words themselves. “I thought I lost it,” he whispers.

It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. Oikawa feels his stomach drop. Without once looking up, he pushes the jacket fully into Iwaizumi’s arms. “Well it’s been a while.”

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa tenses when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to leave you alone again”

Oikawa brushes the hand off and starts walking to his bed. His heart aches; it drips, heavy black tar dropping onto his stomach until it pools, gets too heavy, and he can’t breathe. Unable to hold back one last jab he replies, “I’ve gotten by just fine without you for the past few months, haven’t I?” He drops a knee onto the bed and briefly turns back to glance at Iwaizumi. He’s just standing there, looking down, face red and eyes scrunched. He looks pitiful.

Oikawa feels his heart break, part of it overtaken with pity for his best friend, urging him to let it go and to comfort Iwaizumi, and the other part full of bitter satisfaction. He _should_ feel guilty for making him feel like this. Not willing to give in to either side, Oikawa wills the thoughts away. He slips into bed, pulls the covers up to his shoulders, and waits.

There’s a shuffling of clothes and the swipe of Iwaizumi’s socks on the floor, but instead of the door creaking open like he expects, the footsteps get closer and the floor near his bed creaks. “Please don’t ask me to leave,” Iwaizumi begs.

So he doesn’t. He stares blankly at the wall and ignores the cool trail of moisture running from the corner of his eye. He hears the creak and thud of Iwaizumi sitting down on ground beside his bed. From the way he stiffens when Iwaizumi places a warm hand on his back it’s obvious that he’s awake, but Iwaizumi doesn’t force him to talk.

“I know you’re mad at me,” he starts, “but I don’t know why or how to fix it.” The warmth of Iwaizumi’s hand seeps through his sleep shirt and into his skin. It feels burning hot and should be uncomfortable, but Oikawa feels himself relax into the touch. Oikawa eyes get heavier with each blink, and it only gets harder to keep them open when Iwaizumi starts rubbing back and forth, like he always did when he had nightmares as a child.

“I wish you would let me help,” Oikawa thinks he hears just before he drifts off; the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to him. “Just talk to me…”

* * *

Oikawa wakes up to a hand nudging at his shoulder. Groggily he turns, expecting to see his mom or dad, but his eyes blink open to the sight of Iwaizumi, hair ruffled and wearing his Godzilla sweatshirt.

He ignores the twinge in his heart at the familiarity of it.

“Come on, I’ll make us dinner.”

Too tired to resist, Oikawa sits up and shifts to sit on the side of the bed. He glances up at Iwaizumi where he sees a look bordering on nervous. His entire body tenses, readying him for the pain when he tries to stand, but Iwaizumi grabs his hand and tugs him up. There’s a tender pulling sensation on the side of his leg, but his knee doesn’t hurt at all.

Slightly more refreshed after the nap, Oikawa only feels kind of guilty when his heart flutters at Iwaizumi helping him down the stairs. _I’m not made of glass, Iwa-chan_ , he wants to say, or maybe, _I don’t need help_. But he lets his knees stay loose and revels in the heat of Iwaizumi’s hand on his hip.

He ends up sitting at the dining room table, watching Iwaizumi putter around in the kitchen like he belongs there. Well. Up until a few months ago, he was Oikawa’s mom’s favorite kitchen helper. Eventually, Iwaizumi sets a bowl of miso soup, rice, and a plate of chicken and vegetables down in front of him. Simple, filling, comfort food. The fluttering slows, and it might just be the miso soup, but he feels warm.

Surprisingly, Oikawa doesn’t feel nauseous after the meal like he usually does more often than not, these days. Iwaizumi guides him to the couch and puts on Invasion of Astro Monster, their favorite movie from childhood. Toshio was the one who introduced it to them when they were six, and Iwaizumi was immediately enamored. The youngest Oikawa wasn’t a fan at first, but eventually grew to love it. Iwaizumi’s love for the movie was infectious, apparently.

Oikawa watches the movie, only able to absorb what’s happening because of years of muscle memory, but mostly stays in his own mind. Despite the effort, he’s still painfully aware of each time Iwaizumi’s eyes drift from the screen, to him. It only stays for a moment or two but happens often enough that it’s distracting. He wonders what Iwaizumi is thinking about. He’s probably trying to dissect every little detail about him right now. Suddenly, Oikawa is conscious about the dark circles under his eyes and the pallid shade of his skin contrasting with the feverish pink of his cheeks. He knows he looks like a mess, and he really doesn’t want Iwaizumi to think about him too hard.

Ha, isn’t that what he wanted in the first place?

He shakes his head to physically refocus himself on the movie. It’s only halfway through, but Iwaizumi has already somehow migrated from the other end of the couch to the middle, and he’s quite close now. Oikawa is reminded again of a few weeks ago when Suga came over. Barely a few minutes into watching tape of other schools’ matches, they were comfortably draped all over each other. He had never been so physical with Iwaizumi, but it was never this… distant.

Almost as soon as the thought enters his mind, Iwaizumi, once again showcasing his perceptiveness, shifts even closer. Oikawa freezes as Iwaizumi leans against him.

They stay like that for the remainder of the movie and by the end of it, Oikawa is exhausted. Iwaizumi drags him, half asleep, up the stairs and to the bathroom. Like this, it’s easy to make himself believe that this is just another sleepover. They dance around each other while brushing their teeth; Iwaizumi has his dark green toothbrush, Oikawa with his blue one, and no one brings up the purple brush, still in the cup next to Tomoe’s blue one.

Like always, Oikawa heads to bed first, scooting towards the wall with Iwaizumi following; this time though, Oikawa doesn’t turn to face Iwaizumi like he usually does. Instead, he keeps facing the wall, hoping that Iwaizumi will somehow break years of habit and pull out the spare futon and sleep on the floor. Of course he doesn’t and takes his usual spot on the other side of the bed.

They lay quietly for a long time, only the sound of their breathing audible in the room. He lets it go on for as long as he can, but eventually, Oikawa speaks. “Hey, Iwa-chan?” the name tumbles clumsily out of his mouth.

“Hmm?” comes the reply. Damn. He was hoping Iwaizumi had fallen asleep in the few minutes of awkward silence.

“I have something to say but you need to let me talk.” Iwaizumi hums again; Oikawa takes a deep breath, but it gets caught in his throat. He coughs and fiddles with the neck of his sweatshirt to distract himself, but it doesn’t work. His vision gets blurry, and he knows that he doesn’t have much time before he’s a complete blubbering mess. “I-” too late. “I’m in love with you.” His shoulders tremble with the effort of trying not to break down into tears. “It’s not a crush and I’m not confused, but I’m _really_ ,” his voice breaks, “in love with _you_.” He barely squeezes out the end of the sentence. Oikawa lets his tears fall for a few seconds before wiping them away. It’s better if he spares Iwaizumi the messy details. He doesn’t need to know about the crushing weight around his heart whenever he sees him with his girlfriend, or the devastating windstorm in his stomach when he thinks about the future.

“Don’t… Feel guilty or anything,” he continues. He wants so badly to turn around and reassure Iwaizumi because even without telling him about the details, after that bombshell—combined with what happened earlier—he’s probably coming to the worst conclusions.

“What happened earlier isn’t because of you. It’s just that I’m stressed. About _this_ ,” he admits, then adds, “and about the tournament, the future of the team, studying for entrance exams, graduation… What comes after…” The tears have stopped for the moment, but each breath still shudders out of him. “It’s all just piled up.”

Behind him, Iwaizumi still hasn’t made a sound aside from the occasional brush of clothing against the sheets. This is it. It’s now or never. He flashes forward for a split second, to a future without his Iwa-chan. “I know you want to help,” he starts, “but what I need from you is time and space.” God this is so much harder than he thought it would be—and he was already preparing for this to be nearly impossible. “Because…” his voice begins to shake. “If you keep acting like normal, I’ll never get over this.” He sighs. “Just help me out a bit with that, okay?”

Silence.

Hesitantly, he asks, “Are you asleep?” Oikawa can’t help but let out a teary laugh at the idea of pouring his heart out to an empty room. “Did I just confess for no reason?”

“…No,” Iwaizumi mumbles, after just long enough for Oikawa to really wonder if he had fallen asleep.

“Well, are you disgusted with me?”

The reply comes much quicker than before: “No!”

“Okay. I’m glad I told you.” With a deep breath, and staying conscious of maintaining the distance between them, Oikawa turns around. Even being so close together, it feels like Iwaizumi is on a whole other plane. Oikawa smiles serenely, freely letting the tears run across his face again. He feels so much more alone than earlier. “We’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

Ugh. This is precisely why he hates lying to Iwaizumi. It’s like he’s reached into his own chest and is grabbing, clawing uncontrollably at anything he can reach; he can’t even blame anyone else because he’s doing it to himself. Now or never is right. If he had held back, then he never would have said it. He doesn’t even know if Iwaizumi believes him. But then again, Iwaizumi has never seen him in love before. Maybe he does believe that Oikawa will get over this soon. Oikawa scoffs internally at the thought. If there’s anything more impossible than Iwaizumi ever reciprocating his feelings, it’s that Oikawa will ever stop loving him.

Suga-chan   
  
**Today** , 10:33  
**Suga:** Morning  
  
**Oikawa:** hey  
  
**Suga:** didn’t hear from you at all yesterday  
  
**Suga:** I missed u!!!  
  
**Suga:** my brain was melting from all the reading  
  
**Oikawa:** sorry a lot happened. Kinda forgot.  
  
**Suga:**??? Vague but ok  
  
**Oikawa:** tl;dr had a nervous breakdown, iwa-chan banned me from practice, I confessed??? to him, told him I’ll get over it asap, ???  
  
**Suga:** (°ロ°) !  
  
**Oikawa:** yea  
  
**Suga:** omg! Want me to come over!!!  
  
**Oikawa:** Maybe later  
  
**Oikawa:** Iwa-chan just left for practice but I want to go back to sleep  
  
**Suga:** I’ll come over after lunch ok?  
  
**Suga:** (つ . •́ _ʖ •̀ .)つ  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oikawa calling his pet axolotl jirou-niisan is so cute?? but could you imagine oikawa’s parents naming their 8 year old son’s pet “second son” and then when oiks is born 4 years later they’re like ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> not so fun fact: this chap was supposed to end more angsty & with a different person with oik’s bed :000 if anyone’s interested  
> [this is one of my drafts](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rnN_3aLKHMAQV_QJDWVC7FcuzrpERhjwi3xHw_VDjNI/) that has that original ending + some other writing process stuff!
> 
> oisuga feels will return next chapter (maybe thurs or fri bc I for sure won’t make it by Wednesday). In the meantime [SPOILERS FOR HQ 401] pls look at [this](https://twitter.com/lovingbokuto/status/1282370355760295937?s=20)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as usual to every reviewer. I love your feedback (and validation. please keep stroking my ego)! While writing, I realized that I’m always just a few pronouns away from dipping into 2nd person Homestuck-ish pov, which is a yikes. I’ll try to do better.
> 
> I’d also like to thank my secret oisuga avengers team for letting me bounce ideas off y’all. thanks to you three, this story has gone from stereotypical teen drama to… slightly more tastefully cliché teen drama.
> 
> vaguely vibey songs: [weightless all time low](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdSoooAjXec) and [head gets loud ryan caraveo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-__0U6_1i00)

Suga doesn’t end up visiting that day. Or the day after. In fact, it’s not until Thursday that Oikawa gives him the okay to visit.

His homework is mostly done since he had nothing to do other than work or fret over why his friend hasn’t been texting him back. Still, he packs a bag with pajamas, a few sets of English flashcards, and his Battle Royale DVDs. There’s nothing like gratuitous violence to distract them from heartache. The bus ride isn’t too long, but it doesn’t compare to Oikawa’s little scooter. Despite still holding fast to the belief that it’s a total deathtrap, it’s grown on him. He shoots a text as he approaches the house, and Oikawa has the door open for him when he arrives.

He waves hello to Oikawa’s father, already in his scrubs and packing food into a lunchbox. The quiet man shoots him a tiny smile in return. He follows Oikawa upstairs, and Suga has barely dropped his bag on the ground when Oikawa grabs his face and pulls him into a searing kiss.

Huh, maybe this is a better distraction than the one he had in mind.

…

“So,” Suga hops a little, trying in vain to pull his pants back up before giving up and rummaging around in Oikawa’s closet for a pair of sweatpants. He piques an eyebrow when he notices the lack of a green and black jacket hanging on the back of the door, “Are we going to talk about what happened on Monday?”

Instead of a reply he hears the mechanical whirring of the DVD port on Oikawa’s computer opening up.

Suga rolls his eyes sits down on the bed, leaving plenty of room next to him for when Oikawa inevitably wants to curl up.

The movie begins and soon there’s a body draped across his lap. Resigning himself to being a pillow for the time being, he cards his fingers through Oikawa’s still slightly sweaty hair. They watch in silence for a while, letting the prologue and the first few deaths pass without commentary.

Just before they hit the midpoint, Suga makes his move. He nudges Oikawa to the side and scoots down to be face to face with him. Not content with simply looking, Suga scoots closer and drapes an arm around Oikawa, leaning in for a short peck on the lips before cupping his cheek. “I know you don’t want to, but I think we need to unpack what happened. It’s not good for you to just keep in inside, you know?”

For a moment it looks like Oikawa is going to brush him off, but he gives in fairly quickly. He tilts his head down to look at where his fingers have tangled themselves into Suga’s sweater. Suga gently takes Oikawa’s hands in both of his and pulls them away. He presses a kiss to the backs of his hands and looks expectantly at the other setter.

“What’s there to say?” He’s still only looking at their hands, Suga notes. “Drama happened. Iwa- Iwaizumi found me in a rough spot and decided I wasn’t fit to play this week. I got mad at him for talking behind my back, he got mad at me for ignoring him…” Oikawa sighs, “Then I confessed and told him to stay away from me so I could get over it.”

Tired of the lack of eye contact, Suga uses their connected hands to nudge Oikawa’s chin up. He feels his heart ache when he sees the tears gathering in Oikawa eyes. He doesn’t wipe them away.

“Before he left he—” Oikawa sniffs, “he told me he wanted to keep his sweatshirt here.” He pulls the neck of his shirt up to wipe at his nose and despite the unfiltered sadness, he feels the familiar warmth of fondness for his friend bloom in his heavy heart. “I- I told him to take it!”

Oikawa breaks, fat tears streaming across his face, and Suga hugs him close. He cups Oikawa’s cheek in one hand and pats his head with the other, cradling and cooing at him until his desperate sobs turns into quiet hiccups.

“It’s not fair,” Oikawa whines. His tears are hot as they drip onto Suga’s palm. “Why can’t I be in love with you?” he half-yells, voice heavy with spit and tears, “We’re cute, we like each other, and we have great sex! Why did I have to ruin my relationship with _him_ of all people?”

Suga feels his throat close up a little. Really, _why not?_ For a second, he lets him jump five, seven, or even ten years into the future. He can see Oikawa and him living happily together in some kind of domestic partnership, but it won’t be the same if this never gets resolved. No one likes those _what could have been_ scenarios. He knows it’s cliché, but he knows what he has to say. Oikawa knows it too. “Because,” Suga pauses and swallows heavily, “we don’t get to decide who we fall in love with.”

With a sigh of agreement, Oikawa scoots impossibly closer. One of his hands once again finds its way to the hem of Suga’s shirt and slowly creeps past to rest on his bare side. Suga lets him stay, allowing him the comfort now that the hard part of their conversation is over. He hums and uses his other hand to poke at the beauty mark on Suga’s cheek. Suga hiccups and grabs the other boy’s hand, nibbling playfully at his fingertips. “I wish we were in love,” Oikawa finally mumbles through his pout as he tries to pull his hand out of Suga’s mouth.

Suga lets them go with a wet pop that Oikawa makes a face at. “Sometimes, I do too.” With that, Suga pulls him in, mushing Oikawa’s face into the crook of his neck and starts stroking his hair again. Partly for Oikawa’s comfort, but also for his own. Each pass through Oikawa’s hair grounds him; the warmth of Oikawa’s body seeping out of his thin t-shirt and through Suga’s is a sensation he never wants to lose.

* * *

When school starts back up it’s like a freight train hits him in the gut. Suddenly there’s no time to do anything. He wakes with the sun and a mug of coffee to get to school on time for practice. Thankfully, Tanaka volunteered to be responsible for unlocking the club room and gym at the beginning of the year, so he gets a few more precious moments of sleep than he would otherwise. Morning practice serves as a wake-up, but it’s still strenuous enough that he has to drink a second coffee before class starts. Between classes and lunch, he works on the schedule for practice that afternoon and the next morning with Daichi, using their observations from the night before and that morning.

The rest of the day crawls until he can get to practice. By the end of it, he’s exhausted. Instead of buying a meat bun from Sakanoshita Store on the way home, now he usually goes for another coffee. At this point, where he goes after practice depends on the day. On Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, he heads straight home to study and complete his homework; on Mondays and Thursdays he heads to Aoba Jousai for extra training with Oikawa before he can start studying. The mornings after those nights are the hardest.

Weekends are significantly better. Karasuno’s Saturday practices run longer, but they’re later in the day, so he usually has time before Seijou’s Saturday practice ends to take a nap before heading over. Sundays are the best though, because there’s no practice, and he can relax as much as he wants. Homework permitting, of course.

It all comes to a head after Saturday practice. School has only been back in session for two weeks, but Suga is already exhausted. He’s ready to run home and take a nap, to hopefully regain _some_ energy before heading to Aoba Jousai’s campus for his tri-weekly training sessions with Oikawa. He’s not entirely sure how they haven’t gotten caught yet. Sure, it was more understandable over summer break because campus was a lot less crowded, but now school’s back in session. He doesn’t question it too hard though. Any extra practice is welcome by itself, but if he can do that, spend time with his best friend, _and_ keep him from pushing himself too hard? That’s even better.

He’s just waved goodbye and is about to walk out the door, when Daichi calls out. “Suga! Wait up!”

He pauses and looks back. Daichi is hopping towards him on one foot and tugging his shoe onto the other. When Daichi lands in front of him, face pink with exertion and embarrassment, Suga can’t help but giggle. “Um,” he starts, looking awkwardly off to the side and scratching at his cheek, “do you want to come over to do some homework and maybe get food or something?”

Suga’s eyes widen. Yes. Yes. _Yes!_ he wants to scream. _Is it a date?_ he would ask, in some parallel universe. But instead, he glances at his phone. 3:30. Aoba Jousai’s practice ends at 6, and he has to be there by 6:30 so they can fit in a few hours of practice and get home at a reasonable time—not that the time usually matters to them. He weighs the pros and cons. It’ll be a tight fit; he won’t be able to nap, but he’ll be able to spend time with Daichi and get most, if not all of his homework done.

When he nods, Daichi’s smile gets even wider.

The walk to Daichi’s house is like a breath of fresh air after what feels like a week of running around at full speed. His lungs greedily fill with air, like he’s just spent the past hour sobbing, and is finally able to breathe normally again.

When they arrive, the Sawamura house is quiet. It seems like all of his friends’ houses are quiet lately. “Mom took Eri and Hiro to visit our Obaa and Ojiisan’s house,” Daichi explains. Suga nods and sets his bag down at the table. He gets up to help Daichi in the kitchen and is immediately shut down as Daichi waves him toward the sitting room. “Just relax! You’re a guest, remember?”

Suga laughs halfheartedly as he turns and leaves his friend in the kitchen. Daichi is right, he is a guest. But a part of him thinks back to the many times he’s visited before. A part of him that had been hoping that he’d graduated from being _just a guest_ to… something else. He’s not sure what, but he lets the disappointment settle in his stomach anyway.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have much time to stew in the because as soon as he’s gotten his books out of his bag, Daichi is back with two cups of barley tea and a bag of chips. “The soup’s still heating up,” he says, and suddenly Suga’s mouth waters at the thought of food. He didn’t realize how hungry he had been until now.

With a stomach full of food and Daichi’s company, his homework goes by much quicker than it usually does. Daichi’s incredible at literature, and just having someone to bounce ideas off of makes it so much easier to process. Still, it’s almost two hours of brain work and he finds himself slowing down around 5:15. Ever vigilant, Daichi notices and offers to make some coffee. Suga nods weakly and rests his head on the table as Daichi heads to the kitchen.

When he returns, he’s holding another cup of barley tea for himself and a mug of coffee for Suga.

He takes the mug and downs half of it in a few gulps, looking up when Daichi chuckles. “Don’t you think you’re drinking that a little too quickly? You won’t be able to sleep tonight!”

Suga pulls the mug away from his mouth with a gasp, “No time for sleep,” he pants, trying to cool down his tongue from the burning liquid. “Need caffeine!” Despite the words, Suga sets the rest of the mug aside and lays his head on the table, resting his gaze on Daichi.

The other boy holds his stare for a moment before leaning in. Suga’s heart skips a beat or three as Daichi cups his cheek and runs the pad of his thumb under his eye. “You’ve been drinking a lot of coffee lately,” he murmurs. “Are you doing okay?”

He doesn’t move. Suga takes a shallow breath, trying in vain to stay in the moment but then Daichi pulls his hand back and Suga is too late to follow. Now that it’s over, he sighs and tries to formulate the least distressing response. “I’m just…” he looks at Daichi’s face, the growing wrinkles between his brows as they furrow, as well as his worried half-frown. “Busy,” he finishes weakly.

Apparently, “busy” is the wrong answer, because Daichi’s face drops. He closes his eyes and sighs. He picks up his pencil and taps it on his notebook. Suga wants to follow his lead, or to ask him what was wrong, but he can’t. Dejectedly, he sits there stuck in the awkward silence he’s triggered.

It feels like an eternity before Daichi sighs again and looks up, pencil stilling. “You’ve been busy a lot lately.”

Suga shrugs.

“Are…” Daichi drops the pencil; Suga fidgets, suddenly feeling exposed and slightly cold despite the table in between them. He tugs uncomfortably at his jacket as Daichi struggles with his words. “Are you sure you and Oikawa aren’t dating?” Suga pulls sharply at his zipper. “Because if you are, I really don’t mind—” Daichi cuts himself off and waves his hands frantically, “not that you need my approval or anything!”

If this were any other situation, Suga would find the backtracking charming. But as it is right now, Daichi looks absolutely gutted. He flips the zipper tab between his fingers, runs his fingers along the zip itself, and waits.

“I thought we were close friends, Koushi,” Daichi sighs, “You don’t have to lie to me about this.”

After the shock of hearing his first name, it takes a few moments for Suga to absorb the rest of Daichi’s sentence. Long enough, in fact, that Daichi starts to dart his eyes nervously around the room and even turns back to his homework.

“We’re not dating,” he finally responds. Daichi whips his head up to face him, expression somewhere between hurt and confused. “I promise we’re not. Really. It’s just…” Suga sighs. He takes a shallow breath and grabs the now lukewarm mug of coffee. He takes a sip. _Bitter_ , he thinks. “It’s just volleyball. We practice together.”

Daichi’s face goes all pinched again. “Then why don’t you practice with _your team_?”

Suga looks down at his murky reflection in the dark liquid and taps his fingers along the side. He takes another sip. Still bitter. “It’s different,” he breathes.

 _Don’t,_ he urges himself. _Don’t drag him into this_. He knows that as a captain, Daichi has every right to know why he’s practicing volleyball with a member of a rival team. Especially since Oikawa is literally the _captain_ of a school that they’re likely to face off against next month. He can’t tell him the whole story. He shouldn’t. But lying to Daichi right now after he just promised… He doesn’t know what’s worse.

If only he was more talented; more humble. Or both. Jealousy rises like bile in his throat. The aftertaste of coffee rots at the back of his tongue and he reflexively takes another sip. It tastes like shit.

“Oikawa’s my friend,” he forces himself to look up and shrug nonchalantly. “He’s a setter too, so he helps me improve my technique. Plus, he’s prone to over-practicing. This way I can keep an eye on him.” The raised eyebrow from Daichi says… something. Maybe he doesn’t believe Suga (who _isn’t_ lying, by the way. He tries to ignore the frustration. He _hates_ not being believed when he’s telling the truth. What does Daichi even know? _He’s_ not the one that’s friends with Oikawa).

Actually, fuck that. This is too much. It’s irrational, he knows, because Daichi is just looking out for him and their team, but that look just hit him the wrong way.

He knows he’s got crazy bags and dark circles under his eyes; he’s well aware that he’s more tired, maybe more irritable; and definitely realizes that he’s been more frazzled than usual—but that only makes him more frustrated. He’s _trying_ okay!? There are just not enough hours in the day for him to do what he needs to do, and have time to fully rest, so _fuck_ Daichi and his judgmental ass. He has _no_ idea.

“You don’t get it,” Suga hisses, “because you’re still on the court.” He clenches his fists around the mug and keeps his voice at a low whisper. He won’t turn into a rude guest and start yelling in someone’s house even if he is ~~slightly frustrated~~ ~~fucking angry~~ upset right now. “You and I both know that Kageyama is on a whole other level.” _Don’t say it don’t say it._ He doesn’t need to know how jealous Suga is of Kageyama’s natural skill and his _stupid pointless_ attempts at clawing his way back onto the court.

Suga bites his tongue and sucks in a breath through his nose. His heart pounds hot in his chest as he feels blood rush to his face from the sheer effort he’s using to keep from blowing up. “By practicing with Oikawa, I can play with a setter who knows what it’s like to be up against a genius.” He pauses and downs the rest of the coffee, taking care to set it back on the table with as little noise as possible. He schools his expression into the warmest, most pleasant smile he can muster, and aims it somewhere over Daichi’s right shoulder. “Don’t you agree _Captain_ , that between the two of us, it’s better if Kageyama has more practice time with the team?”

He hears the shuffle of clothes and practically jumps out of his caffeine-overloaded skin when Daichi touches his shoulder. Suddenly, he’s a lot closer than before, leaning across the low table they’re both seated at. “There’s a healthier way to do this, Suga,” Daichi says in a combination of his not-taking-no-for-an-answer captain voice, and his normal tone. From this close, he can almost feel Daichi’s breath on his face. He can trace the creases on his forehead and feel even worse that he’s the reason why they’re there.

“You’re already completely exhausted, and school’s only been going for two weeks.” Daichi leans back and this time, Suga chases the warmth. Before he can catch himself he’s leaning slightly over the table as well. If he weren’t so frustrated with Daichi, and himself, and the situation, and what he was saying, he would sit himself down on the other side of the table with him. Daichi leans forward on his forearms and keeps his eyes trained on the surface of the table. “What’s going to happen when the tournament starts? Or when we have to take entrance exams?”

Suga doesn’t know, and he’s too _anxiousoverwhelmedscared_ right now to even think about the answer for too long before his stomach starts turning. He finds a scuff on the table and focuses on it, even though he knows that Daichi has lifted his head and is pinning him with his gaze. There’s a long pause before Daichi finally continues.

“If we make it to nationals, it’s going to happen close to exam season. What then?”

Suga swallows. He wishes he hadn’t finished all his coffee earlier. “I…” he coughs, throat suddenly very dry. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You can’t just—"

Suga whips his head up to glare at Daichi, eyes blazing with renewed intensity. “I said I’ll figure it out!” he barks, slamming both hands on the table.

That gets him. Daichi shrinks back the slightest bit, and Suga takes the opening. “Daichi, as your friend, please trust me when I say that I know how to take care of myself. And as your _vice-captain_ ,” he emphasizes, “I promise that it won’t affect the team. If anything,” Suga laughs harshly, “I’ll have insider knowledge on Oikawa’s skills.”

Across the table, Daichi sighs. “I’m not asking you to betray your friend like that.” His shoulders slump and he blinks hopelessly up at Suga. Suddenly he feels guilty. “It’s not that I don’t trust you to take care of _yourself_ ,” Daichi has such an earnest look on his face that it hurts to look at. He doesn’t want to disappoint Daichi, but again, he doesn’t understand. Suga steels himself for whatever comes next. “It’s that I think you’re taking care of too many other things and other people.” This time, when Daichi reaches across the table it’s to take Suga’s hands in his. “You’re stretching yourself too thin, Koushi.”

There’s the moment he’s been looking for. It’s not as electric or tense as Suga had expected it to be, but that could just be him being resigned and sad. He contemplates tugging his hands away but decides to let himself have this. Just for now. He’ll let Daichi break them apart when he wants to.

Suga smiles his artificial smile again, “Well then I’ll just have to get better at time management, aren’t I?”

Of course, Daichi pulls away at that. “Suga!” he yells exasperatedly.

Now that there’s nothing keeping him tethered to Daichi, Suga starts gathering his items. He sighs. “Look Daichi,” he says as he zips up the bag, “I have to head out soon if I’m going to make it on time.”

Daichi groans and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Really? You’re still going?”

Suga stops fiddling with his items and turns fully to face Daichi. He drops the smile and resists the urge to click his tongue at the other boy and give in to the frustration transforming into disdain making its way up his throat. “Yes. I have to. I have an obligation to my friend, and I’m only hurting my chances at improving if I don’t go.”

He holds Daichi’s stare for a long moment, unwilling to give in. Finally, Daichi blinks and acquiesces with a shrug. “At least let me drive you there.”

Surprised, Suga doesn’t reply.

“Please,” Daichi pleads, already standing up to grab the keys. “I’m supposed to go to Obaa and Ojiisan’s for dinner anyway.”

Still hesitant, Suga nods, grabs his bag, and follows Daichi out the door. “Okay. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suga pls.... go to sleep........
> 
> next chap gonna be m e s s y but i’m gonna try to get it up on Wednesday! in the meantime come hang on twitter [@fujibutts](https://twitter.com/fujibutts)! I resurrected my account and am in dire need of people to hang with!! y’all can @ me if I’m taking too long to update lmao


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna personally thank everyone that’s reviewed and hmu on twitter ([@fujibutts](https://twitter.com/fujibutts)) but especially simp4suga for the constant support and the bastard cat appreciation club for hangin out.
> 
> before u read I just want to ask if y'all can please keep an eye out for any parts that sound particularly weird/stiff/clunky!!! I usually draft in bullet points or script format so I’ve always struggled with balancing physical movement, dialogue, and internal thought.
> 
> song recs: [boys will be bugs cavetown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uREGk0fT0GQ) and [affection between friends](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJoMqYumxmA)

The drive over goes simultaneously worse and better than Suga imagined. Daichi doesn’t push, but he parks the car when he pulls in, instead of just dropping Suga off. According to the dash, he has about 10 minutes before he has to start heading to the gym, so he stays. Daichi takes his hands off the steering wheel and places them in his lap; Suga watches him fiddle nervously with his fingers. It’s such a familiar habit that he wonders if he learned it from Daichi, or if it’s the other way around.

Eventually, either the silence or the stuffiness of the car gets to Suga. “Thank you,” he says as he places one hand on Daichi’s upper arm, and the other reaches toward the door handle.

Just as he’s about to pull and make his exit, Daichi grabs Suga’s hand. “Wait!”

Suga freezes, body caught between leaning away and in. At Daichi’s pouted lip, he relaxes and leans his side against the backrest, fully facing the other boy.

Daichi doesn’t let go of his hand. “Please…” he starts, eyes laser focused on where his fingertips rest against Suga’s knuckles. “Promise me you won’t push yourself too hard?” He looks up at Suga, who visibly hesitates with a grimace. He wants to agree, to comply with any request Daichi has, but he also knows that his and Daichi’s definitions of _working too hard_ don’t exactly align right now. When he doesn’t reply, Daichi squeezes and swipes his thumb across his knuckles. “At least keep me updated?”

With a sigh, Suga relents. “Okay.”

Daichi lets go of him after another squeeze, and Suga takes that as his cue to leave. With a smile, he thanks Daichi again and starts heading toward the gym. After a few meters he turns back to find that Daichi has rolled down his window. “Text me!” He yells. Suga feels a giggle bubble up in his throat and waves. Daichi gives him a wide, goofy smile and a wave in return.

He must still be giddy when he arrives at the gym because Oikawa raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s up with you?” Oikawa asks, tossing a ball in the air and bumping it while Suga stretches on the floor.

Unable to hold back a smile, Suga turns away to hide the blush on his face. “Oh you know,” he replies with a shrug.

Oikawa waits until Suga stands and turns back around to toss him the ball, pinning him with a sleazy smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Shut up!” Suga blushes and hits the ball back at Oikawa.

The other boy catches and bounces it a few times, “I didn’t say anything!” Oikawa says with a laugh. He ducks under the net and softly serves the ball, making it easy for Suga to receive. As soon as the ball ricochets off his forearms, Oikawa continues; “You’re all…” he waves his hands in vague formations in the air and settles on the word, “glowy.” He sticks his tongue out teasingly at Suga, “Kinda makes me sick.”

Suga rolls his eyes, continuing the playful back-and-forth with another bump. He lets it go on for another few exchanges before placing himself under the incoming ball for a set. “Well…” at the last second he switches to a dump and laughs as Oikawa stumbles over his own feet and dives to make the save. Without another person to continue the play, the ball bounces lamely across the court. Suga watches Oikawa push himself into a seated position, legs outstretched and pouting, as he grabs another ball from the nearby basket.

By the time he’s back, Oikawa is up and standing, gesturing for him to go on. Suga makes an underhanded serve, “I was hanging out with Daichi today…”

The ball smacks against Oikawa’s arms with a little more force, and Suga has to scramble to the back line to toss it back over the net, “Yeah?” Oikawa urges as he receives the ball.

Suga doesn’t answer. They go through the motions of receiving and returning the ball as Suga gets his thoughts in order. He considers every time Daichi initiated contact tonight. As much as he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he also can’t deny the warmth of Daichi’s hand as it cupped his cheek, or the intensity of his gaze. If it turns out that Daichi doesn’t actually hold any romantic feelings for him, they’re going to have to have a long talk about sending signals. Or maybe Suga really is reading way too far into this and he’s making everything up.

Whatever. He pushes those thoughts away and digs his heels into the ground, sending the ball much higher than before. Oikawa runs to catch it before it lands and sets it over the net. Feeling emboldened, Suga runs up and jumps, palm stinging from the relatively unfamiliar contact of spiking.

The ball hits Oikawa’s side of the court with a satisfying smack. Suga’s eyes dart between his reddening hand and Oikawa’s surprised look.

He’s still staring when Oikawa moves to grab another ball, probably thinking of moving on to spiking practice. Before Oikawa can duck under the net, Suga clenches his fist and lifts his eyes to his friend. “I think I’m going to confess soon.”

Suga watches the ball slip from Oikawa’s hands, and follows its trail until it bumps the toe of his shoe. Dazed, he picks it up.

“What?”

He looks up at Oikawa, face a lot less excited than he expected it to be. Suddenly, Suga feels a little self-conscious about the heat that’s been rising to his face the more he thinks about it. “You should’ve seen him,” Suga can’t help the tiny smile that’s making his cheeks ache with how hard he’s trying to keep it from growing into a full-on grin. He tries to get Oikawa more enthused by tossing the ball over the net, but his effort is rebuffed. Oikawa catches it without a word.

Suga watches as Oikawa’s face as he grips the ball. His lips momentarily twitch into a frown, just a slight downturn of the corners of his mouth, and Suga feels his stomach drop. He eyes his friend warily, excited smile twisting into an anxious, bared-teeth approximation of one. “You don’t look as happy as I thought you’d be,” he voices.

“Look, just…” Oikawa halfheartedly bumps the ball over the net. It barely arcs over, and Suga catches it. He has a feeling this isn’t the type of conversation to have while playing around. Oikawa stares him down with a look that Suga can’t parse out. The frown is gone from his face, but he doesn’t have the dead-eyed look that Suga associates with whenever Oikawa gets truly upset. “Don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

His fingers twitch against the synthetic leather surface of the ball. Oikawa’s eyes dart to his hands, and Suga knows that this isn’t going to end well, if Oikawa already looks defensive.

“You might think this is a sure thing,” Oikawa continues, “but what if it’s not?”

Suga grits his teeth. The sinking feeling in his stomach gives way to a heat. Whether it’s anger or frustration, he’s not sure yet.

Oikawa keeps going. His frown returns as he presses on, “What if he rejects you?” Suga sucks in a breath, letting his eyes refocus on the net separating them, instead of Oikawa’s face. “Or on the off chance that you do get together,” Suga’s eyes snap back to Oikawa’s at the use of that qualifier. _Off chance_ my ass, he thinks. His fingers curl and tense; he knows that his nails are going to leave marks on the ball. “What happens if you break up?” Oikawa says. He’s not smiling, but a ghost of his _I know better than you_ expression is present on his face.

At that, Suga can’t stay silent anymore. “Now wait a second-” 

But Oikawa barrels on, “It’ll fuck up the whole team dynamic! Don’t you care about-”

“SHUT UP!” Suga interrupts and throws the ball at Oikawa’s face. The ball hits the net with a dull _smack_ and Oikawa looks back agape. “Don’t you dare bring my team into this!” Suga yells. Somewhere in the back of his head he thinks, he’s been yelling a lot today.

The momentary shock passes, and suddenly Oikawa is storming up to the net. His face is drawn into a full scowl, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. “Your entire relationship is based around volleyball!” he yells, as if _their_ entire relationship isn’t either. “You can’t just ignore it!”

Unable to step down, Suga mirrors his friend’s actions and aggressively stomps to the net. He knows that Oikawa has a point. He first met Daichi when they both showed up to the first day of volleyball practice during their first week of school. Yes, they hit it off, and yes they spent a lot of time outside of practice studying and hanging out together, but there’s no denying the claim that their friendship has revolved around volleyball the same way that his friendship with Oikawa revolves around exactly this: commiserating about their crushes.

“You’re _captain_ and _vice-captain_ ,” the sound of Oikawa’s half-harsh-borderline-desperate tone shocks Suga out of his reverie. He _knows._ He doesn’t need Oikawa telling him this. “The team comes first!” Suga hates this. He’s well aware of his position, and he’s well aware of the similarity with Oikawa. There’s literally no one else on earth that is as intimately acquainted with Suga’s dilemma as Oikawa is.

Technically, he’s right. Suga should agree and stop himself from possibly causing unnecessary strife. He can always confess after he and Daichi have both retired from the team, or maybe even at graduation. The timeline shouldn’t matter if their feelings are really as reciprocated as Suga suspects…

But the frustration and exhaustion has caught up to him. Suga lets the bubbling frustration boil over. He lets his teeth clench, and the blood rush to his face. He doesn’t bother pinching his lips together or biting his tongue; without a ball to throw Suga spits, “FUCK YOU! Leave me alone!”

“I’m just trying to help!”

Seething with an unfamiliar rage, Suga steps up and reaches below the net separating them, physically shoving Oikawa back since apparently he won’t back down on his own. “No you’re not!” Suga _screams_. Spit flies from his mouth across the short distance between them. Oikawa catches himself on his back foot, but only glares back. Suga is over this. The growing itch under his skin tells him to leave, to get out before his anger builds up too much and he does something out of character.

But he can’t.

“Daichi is NOTHING like Iwaizumi!” he digs. Oikawa actually flinches back, and Suga takes a sick sense of satisfaction from it. He wants to stop, he does, but his mouth is already open before he can stop himself. “And unlike _you_ , _I_ actually have a chance with him!”

There it is. The dead-eyed look that Suga was looking for earlier finally makes its appearance. But now he’s in too deep to stop. The tidal wave of anger and frustration crashes out of him, and Suga feels his knees buckle from the force of it. “Stop trying to control me like you try to control everything else in your life!” He sees Oikawa’s face crumple for a moment before snapping back into a neutral expression. Instead of tugging at his heart and urging him to comfort Oikawa like he usually does, it just makes Suga want to press harder; to hurt him.

Why does Oikawa get to stay so composed when he’s basically telling Suga his plan is stupid, while Suga is feeling so… much? Despite the resentment boiling at the top of his throat and creeping up onto the back of his tongue, Suga knows that he’s going to fizzle out soon enough. But before then, since he’s already dug so deep into Oikawa, he decides to go for one more bite. “Just because you let your friendship go to shit over a crush, doesn’t mean I will!” Suga clenches his fist. This is far enough. This is _enough, Koushi_. “I won’t ruin my team like you did,” he finishes.

Suga isn’t sure if he can actually hear his own heartbeat, or if the blood rushing through his ears is keeping him from hearing anything other than his own hoarse breathing. Oikawa isn’t faring any better; despite his blank expression, his breath is also coming in pants.

They stare each other down for what feels like an eternity; Suga’s eyes zone in and out, and he spends so long ~~looking~~ ~~glaring~~ staring at Oikawa that his periphery starts to go dark. Finally, Oikawa relents, “Fine.”

The anxiety that was hidden beneath the overwhelming anger inside him finally makes itself known now that the fight has drained out of him. Suga resists the shiver that runs down his back as cold creeps through his arms, starting from his now relaxed shoulders to his fingertips. “Fine,” he agrees through gritted teeth. “Let’s clean up.”

Without a word they pack up the net and balls, falling into a tense rendition of a familiar routine. They maneuver around each other, and for a second it’s almost like their argument never happened. But when Oikawa locks the gym with his recently returned spare keys, the silence is thick and suffocating.

Instead of the usual hug or kiss on the cheek goodbye, Suga leaves without a word.

Daichi ♥  
  
**Suga:** Practice went great!  
  
**Suga:** Super tired :(  
  
**Daichi:** Do they always go this late?  
  
**Suga:** yeah sometimes.  
  
**Suga:** i’m almost home tho!  
  
**Suga:** night!  
  
**Daichi:** Goodnight!  
  


* * *

He doesn't have a good night.

Waking up with a pit of anxiety taking up most of the space in his _cheststomachthroat_ and nausea clawing at his tongue has become a common occurrence for Suga in recent days. Before, he only woke up like that when he had a restless night, or didn't sleep much. Now that nearly every night is like that... It's tough. Combined with the pure exhaustion that has been clinging to his shoulders since mid-June, Suga wonders how he does it every day. Thankfully today is Sunday, so at least he doesn’t have school or practice.

He spends most of the day in his room. He ignores his phone, doesn’t turn on the computer, and mostly lies in bed trying to calm his racing heart that _has absolutely no right to be beating so fast if all he’s doing is lying around lazily—at least he could be practicing or studying or apologizing to_ —the thoughts whirl until eventually Suga gives up and tries to fall back asleep at 2 in the afternoon.

Later, he wakes up to the sound of knocking at his door. It’s his mom. With a hand on his forehead, she asks if he’s feeling okay; he says yes, but she comes back a few minutes later with a cool rag to for his forehead and a bowl of porridge.

So he doesn’t disappoint her _any more than he usually does,_ he forces the rice down his throat. It sits heavy and solid in his stomach and gags a few times, thinking that he’s going to throw it back up; thankfully, he doesn’t _._ He can’t sleep after that, though. He tries to ignore the churning of his upset, overfull stomach, and instead focuses the whirring of the fan in the corner of his room. His clock blinks red at him. 6:34pm.

Come Monday he feels worse than before, but the cheerful yells of his teammates and the burning of his lungs and muscles are enough to stave off the anxiety at least for a bit; this time, he can blame the sweat running down his back on exertion, and not his irrationally erratic heartbeat.

The day continues. He leaves his phone in his bag and approaches Daichi during break.

“Hey Sawamura! Sugawara!”

Both boys look up from where they’re hunched over Daichi’s notebook, plotting out the next week’s practice regimen.

“Hey Sato,” Daichi greets. Suga waves. Daichi and Sato used to be lab partners, so he’s not as close with Sato. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever spoken to him outside of—

“So,” the boy shoots a sly look at Suga, “you guys coming next Monday?”

Suga and Daichi share a look, not knowing what he was talking about. Sato rolls his eyes when no reply comes. “The party!”

Oh. It had completely slipped his mind. At the end of summer break, he received an invite from their old teammate—Ryoga-senpai, a charismatic libero two years ahead of him, Daichi and Asahi. For the first time today, he pulls out his phone. He ignores the twinge in his stomach when he realizes that there are no unread messages, scrolls down to the thread in question, and shows Daichi.

He went to a few parties in first and second year, but third year has been so busy, what with exams coming up, leading the team with Daichi and Asahi, and then choosing to stay on the team after their loss in June… It’s been busy.

Sato nudges Suga and wiggles his eyebrows again, “Down?”

Daichi answers first, with his usual firm _thanks but no thanks_. “Sorry, my parents are leaving for the long weekend, so I have to babysit my siblings.” He looks at Suga expectantly.

Suga considers it. He looks from Sato, to Daichi, then to the text bubble on his phone. He thinks about the mountain of exam books on his desk at home, and the notebook still open on Daichi’s desk. Then he remembers Saturday night. Fuck it. As much as he wants to offer to help Daichi babysit so they could spend some time together (not that he would ever get the nerve to make a move on him with his baby brother and sister there), he can’t.

“I’ll be there.”

* * *

Suga’s not entirely sure he made the right call, but the anxious buzzing under his skin slowly turned into a numb warmth with each sip. He forgot how much he missed this.

He weaves through the party, waving hi to people he hasn’t seen since last school year, and dipping in and out of conversations as he passes. He’s only on his second mixed drink, but when Ryoga-senpai saw him walking through the door, he immediately got pulled into doing a round of shots with some other volleyball club alumni. Fortunately (or unfortunately, he still can't decide) he's the only current member of the team here.

Leaning against the kitchen sink, Suga sips at his newly refilled cup of water and amusedly watches his classmates goad each other into drinking contests. Like this, surrounded by people, it’s easy to ignore the fact that his best friend hasn’t talked to him all week outside of a few stilted exchanges once or twice a day. Dread creeps up on him around the edges of his vision; he wonders what he’s going to do after the party, alone in his room again.

He’s watching a student he recognizes as a second year on the basketball team get down on one knee and tilt his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to swallow a bottle full of fizzy booze. It goes to show how close to drunk Suga is that he doesn’t jump when an arm snakes around his waist.

Glancing over, he sees that it’s Toudou from Class 3, former pitcher on the baseball team before all the third years retired. Without a word, he tilts his head towards the bathroom and raises an eyebrow.

Ever since they met in their first year—two kouhai invited to a party full of rowdy upperclassmen—they’ve shared an unspoken bond. They’ve hooked up a few times, but only ever at parties. They never kiss, and never speak at school. It’s a pretty good deal.

Suga weighs his options. On one hand, he can sleep with someone he knows is a good lay, or he can stew in his own anxiety and only half-enjoy the party, if even that.

He sighs, “Ask me again in like an hour?”

Toudou shrugs and walks away with a squeeze to Suga’s waist.

Almost immediately he’s replaced by another person. This time, Suga can smell the familiar deodorant mixed with sweat and alcohol. He pouts and tilts his head to rest atop the man’s.

“Y’right Suga-chan?”

Suga lets out a groan and wraps both arms around the libero. He feels the smaller body shake with stifled laughter and lets himself be pushed away gently. Ryoga-senpai, the first friend he made on the volleyball team, current university student, and overall gift to the world, pulls him back into a proper hug before completely letting him go. “Come on, you’re way too sad and sober to be drinking,” he sniffs the cup and nods to himself as if confirming his suspicion, “water, right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap was SO FUN!!!! So fucking fun. I’ve wanted to write the argument scene for MONTHS!!!! fuck it hurts SO GOOD!! also s/o @ that random OC that got iced lmao
> 
> I wrote most of this sitting in my backyard and it’s such a weird feeling writing outside when I’ve written 99% of this cooped up in my room. but maybe being outside is giving this too many good vibes lol?? i need the angst.
> 
> anyway, y'all know the drill! please point out any weird sounding parts in the comments or anything else. i love talking to every single one of u!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikesss sorry this is fucking late! fuckin writers block got me again!!! also I tried and failed on 2 separate occasions to write this drunk to truly embody suga, but this chap was pretty fun to write anyway!
> 
> sending love to simp4suga and sweetly; sending fuck yous to the bastard cat fan club; sending hate to pacattack777…and SENDING THANK YOU!!!!! to every incredible reviewer!!!!!
> 
> song recs: [party! catie (oikawa)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9d_pEo5fB1A) and [sober up AJR (suga)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DC_TrsY7U3A)

3 People  
  
Suga-chan  
**Suga:** hello to my two fav boys  
**Suga:** even tho oiks n i r kinda beefing   
Unknown Number  
**Unknown:** suga did you really go to the party?  
Suga-chan  
**Suga:** mmmmaybe  
**Suga:** ryossan made me take 900 shots  
Unknown Number  
**Unknown:** How drunk are you??  
**Unknown:** Did you go alone?  
**Unknown:** How are you going to get home?  
Suga-chan  
**Suga:** idk!!!!!!!! i’ll figure itout  
**Suga:** anywasy we’re playing kings cup now bye!!!!  
Unknown Number  
**Unknown:** Wtf suga…  
**Oikawa:** don’t worry I’ll go pick him up  
Unknown Number  
**Unknown:** Who’s this?  
**Oikawa:** Oikawa from Aoba Jousai VBC  
Sawamura  
**Daichi:** Oh hi, this is Sawamura from Karasuno.  
**Daichi:** Do you know where the party is?  
**Oikawa:** yea i'll just track his phone's location  
Sawamura  
**Daichi:** He shares his location with you?  
Suga-chan  
**Suga:** haha phone go brrrr brrr  
**Suga:** shutup I’m trying to focus get out of my texts

Sawamura Daichi  
  
**Oikawa:** he’s absolutely plastered isn’t he  
  
**Daichi:** Yeah it’s been a while since he’s been to a party. He might have gone overboard  
  
**Oikawa:** ill go pick him up.  
  
**Daichi:** Um wait…  
  
**Daichi:** Can I come too?  
  
**Oikawa:** yea send me ur address. I’l prob need help getting him in the car anyway  
  


Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much effort to drag himself out of bed, considering it’s past 1am. His dad is at work, and his mom got picked up by Toshio’s wife on Friday afternoon to spend the long weekend doing some womanly bonding, apparently. Either way, his mom’s car is free for the taking, and he pays no mind as he grabs the keys and types in Daichi’s address as he heads to the garage.

The other captain’s house is relatively close, only a few minutes away and somewhere in between his and Suga’s houses. When he arrives, Daichi is waiting outside, wearing a comfortable looking sweater that clashes with his sneakers.

“Thanks for letting me come,” Daichi says as he slips into the car.

Oikawa smiles wearily and greets the other boy with a simple hello. He’s not going to pretend like he knows Daichi just because he’s friends with Suga, but he doesn’t want the ride to be awkward.

“Thanks, again,” Daichi breaks the silence a few minutes later. Out of the corner of his eye, Oikawa can see Daichi looking at him, but can’t see his expression.

Oikawa shrugs, flexing his fingers against the steering wheel, suddenly very self-conscious under Daichi’s appraising eye. “What are friends for?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can. From there, the drive continues more or less… cordially. They halfheartedly discuss Shiratorizawa’s lineup, and quip back and forth about the upcoming tournament. Really, talking about anything other than their respective relationships with Suga.

He sees Daichi glance at his phone a few times, and as the GPS’s estimated arrival time gets closer and closer, Daichi gets more tense. 

Even when they’re still three minutes away, it’s already clear which house the party is at. It’s late, but the street is sparse, and the nearest neighbor is nearly half a mile away. No wonder they haven’t been shut down, even though Oikawa can hear the music from inside his car.

Daichi has completely turned to look out the window, like he’ll be able to find Suga in the overflow crowd of teenagers and young adults in the front yard if he looks hard enough. His fingers tap restlessly to the best of the music on the radio on the plastic armrest of the door, and Oikawa wants to tell him to sit down and _stop it_ , but he gets it. He’s anxious too. The bus stop was nearly a mile back, and the thought of Suga walking all that way alone and _drunk_ makes his knees weak with worry.

Thankfully, apparently not many people drove (he imagines Suga, stumbling on the side of the road, and a car full of intoxicated, irresponsible teenagers approaching. He shakes his head to clear away the thought), so he parks pretty close. It’s great. If Suga doesn’t want to leave and he and Daichi have to carry him out of the party, then they won’t have to go far.

Not a word is spoken until they’re standing side by side outside of the car. Daichi takes a deep breath and gives Oikawa the same look that Oikawa gives to his team before practice matches. It’s the same look that says, _we can do this_ , and Oikawa wants to say that it’s useless. It’s not a game, it a fucking _party_ , and they should just go in, grab Suga, then get the hell out. But instinctively, he knows it won’t be that easy.

As they leave the safety of the car and start walking through the crowded front yard, Oikawa recognizes a few faces; some senpai he had seen in the halls of Aoba Jousai in his first and second years, but they mostly go unnoticed. It isn’t until he and Daichi are inside the house wedging themselves past people, that they’re noticed.

“Oi, Dai-chan!”

Both boys look to the side and see a shorter man with wild black hair and a cocky grin. Oikawa glances to Daichi and sees that he has relieved smile on his face. “Ryoga-senpai!” he greets when the man finally stops in front of them.

Despite the difference in height the man reaches up to ruffle Daichi’s hair. “Sawamura Daichi at a party? Is the world ending?” he asks with a laugh.

Daichi blushes and scratches the back of his neck bashfully, “Actually we,” he gestures to Oikawa, “came to bring Suga home.”

The man, apparently Daichi’s former senpai, eyes Oikawa up and down. Despite the slight hazy drunkenness, his look is sharp, and Oikawa feels like he’s being evaluated, despite the deceptively friendly smile on his face. Maybe it’s a Karasuno captain thing; that ability to make anyone feel like they’re being examined under a microscope. After a long moment, Ryoga points his thumb over his shoulder, “Over there.”

With a nod, Oikawa starts heading in that direction, but quickly finds that Daichi isn’t following. He turns back and sees that Ryoga has draped an arm around Daichi’s shoulders and is holding up his other hand in apology. “Sorry! I’m keeping him for a while!”

Oikawa glances at Daichi who shrugs helplessly, and then nods. He continues through the house, dodging people and turning down drinks he’s offered a few times. He’s about to give up and go back to grab Daichi when he catches a flash of silver and hears a familiar voice.

Like a fucking movie, he stops dead in his tracks and forces his head to turn to the side. Found him.

“Suga,” he calls.

No reply. Apparently Suga is too distracted with squeezing this… this _random_ ’s crotch that he doesn’t even hear Oikawa. Or he’s ignoring him. So he tries again.

“Koushi!”

That gets him. With a wet smack Oikawa can hear from where he's standing a few feet away, Suga separates from the other boy. Even in the dark hallway Oikawa can see the shine of his spit-slick and swollen lips. “Oikawa!” he greets, absentmindedly waving with the hand that’s holding an unfamiliar headband. He pauses for a second before adding, “Wait, what’cha doing here?”

Oikawa shifts his eyes to the stranger who _still_ hasn’t taken himself off of Suga. He narrows his eyes and glares, not answering until the boy has put some distance between them. With his partner pulling away, Suga pouts. “Huh? Where’re you going?”

The stranger finally slides fully away and pulls his headband from Suga’s hands. “See you later, Kou. Hit me up if you want to hang later, okay?”

The pout momentarily disappears and Suga rolls his eyes. “You know I don’t hook up outside of parties,” he says. The other boy shrugs and starts walking away. Suga sighs dejectedly, and the pout is back. “Bye Jin.”

In the cramped hallway the boy, Jin, apparently, has to squeeze past Oikawa to get back to the main area. He doesn’t step aside to make room, but he does turn his head to follow him.

Now alone, Oikawa crosses his arms and turns his glare onto Suga. “Come on,” he says firmly. “Daichi has to get home soon because his siblings are asleep.”

He really should have expected Suga to put up a fight like he does with everything else, but Oikawa is still surprised when Suga mirrors him; crosses his arms, and even stomps his foot. “Loosen up Oikawa!” Suga whines, “You’re ruining my night!”

Oikawa feels a pulse of heat behind his eyes. He tries to remind himself that Suga is _drunk_. He’s dealt with drunks before. He’s a pro at this! No one can compare to when both Makki _and_ Mattsun got wine drunk and Oikawa had to keep them from prank calling their kouhais all by himself because Iwaizumi was already passed out on the couch after one glass. _Deep breaths Tooru_ , he reminds himself. “Ruining your night?” As soon as the words leave his tongue with more force than he intended, he knows that they’re in for an encore of last Saturday’s shouting match. “ _I’m_ the one that had to get out of bed to drag your drunk ass home!”

He has half a mind to grab Suga’s hand and drag him out of the house by force, and his hand is already reaching out, but Suga slaps it away. “I thought we weren’t friends anymore, since you obviously couldn’ be bothered to fucking talk to me all week!”

Almost immediately Oikawa feels the frustration drain out of him. Right. This is his fault. He draws his hand back as Suga continues, “I’m a big boy Oikawa! I’m not a fucking pawn!” Suga yells; the urge to give up and leave with a condescending _If that’s what you really want, you can figure this out on your own!_ almost overpowers his instinct to protect. Thankfully, Oikawa doesn’t need to decide because—

“Suga! Oikawa!” he turns to see Daichi rushing down the hall towards them, “There you are! God, Ryoga-senpai found some of the other alumni and they made me take a shot of some weird European liquor ugh…” Apparently not noticing the tension between the two setters, Daichi reaches his hand out to Suga. “Are you ready to go?”

Oikawa watches Suga reach his hand out, then pull it back. He’s not surprised that he doesn’t slap Daichi’s hand away like he did Oikawa’s, but his hand (and chest) stings a little bit at the memory.

“Um, go?” Suga steps back shakily. As tired as he is, Oikawa is glad that Daichi is here. With him, maybe Suga will come easier. “No! The party just started!”

Well, there goes that plan. Oikawa rolls his eyes, “Suga you’ve been here for at least three hours.”

“So?” Suga groans, “It’s barely past midnight!”

Daichi steps forward, hands raised like he’s approaching a scared animal. “It’s nearly two am!”

Stumbling back to lean on the wall, Suga pulls his phone out of his back pocket and blinks at the screen. “Oh huh, you’re right.” And because he lives to aggravate, Suga shrugs and steps forward, nudging his way between them.

The two captains stand frozen in shock at Suga’s brazen dismissal, until Daichi snaps out of it and lunges forward, wrapping his hand around Suga’s wrist. “Come on Suga,” he says through gritted teeth, “it’s time to go.”

Instead of going along with Daichi like Oikawa expects, Suga scowls at Daichi and rips his arm out of Daichi’s grasp. Turning around, Suga crosses his arms and cocks a hip; like this, with a drunk flush on his cheeks and a venomous glint in his eyes, Oikawa remembers why he loves Suga so much. If only he wasn’t also on the other side of that look by association. “You know your captain voice doesn’t work on me outside of practice, right?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Daichi gapes at Suga, then looks to Oikawa with a pleading look in his eye again. Oikawa shrugs, once again not sure how he can help, and Suga scoffs then walks away. Still at a loss, they wordlessly follow him back into the fray; sticking close enough to annoy him, judging by the frustrated furrow of his brow.

As Oikawa watches Suga interact with the other partygoers, it’s like he’s watching a movie. Oikawa knows that the quiet, touchy, tender Suga he sees most often is different from the cheerful and outgoing version that most people experience, but this is a completely different beast.

The way he weaves through the throng of people, swaying along to the music and effortlessly being pulled from conversation to conversation, is fascinating. Beside him, he knows that Daichi is utterly entranced as well. Suga looks like he _belongs_ here, simultaneously blending in with his peers both high school and university age, but somehow, is also the center of attention.

It’s not until Suga pulls himself out of the crowd, heading to the mostly empty kitchen to mix a drink, that their trio is acknowledged.

From where they’re standing near the counter, Oikawa feels Daichi tense beside him. A hiss escapes his lips as a tall blonde approaches Suga from behind. Oikawa shifts and clenches his fist instinctively; he must make some sort of noise because the boy, random person #2, looks back at them and _smirks_. “Looks like your guard dogs are getting ready to fight,” he murmurs loud enough for both Daichi and Oikawa to hear.

Suga scoffs and brushes the arm off his shoulder. “Fuck off Masaharu,” is all he says before walking out of the kitchen. With a sigh, he shoots an exasperated look at the two of them. “Let’s go home.”

Shocked at the sudden change of heart, Oikawa nods and palms his keys, not even bothering to look back at random-person-#2-who-is-apparently-named-Masaharu. Of course, the walk back to the car takes another fifteen minutes, what with Suga being stopped every few feet to say hi or bye. Again, Oikawa is struck by a weird combination of jealousy and pride for his friend.

Once outside, the walk to the car isn’t so bad. Ryoga ends up following them out and sends all of them off with hugs; but the moment the doors shut, it’s suddenly suffocating. Daichi had slipped into the back seat with Suga, but from the moment he sat down, Suga had turned to face the window and hasn’t moved, except to scoot as far away as he can from Daichi and Oikawa.

It’s silent, radio off unlike on the ride over, until they get back onto the main road. “You okay?” Daichi asks.

Oikawa glances at his rear-view mirror and catches Suga frowning in the corner of it. “Don’t talk to me right now. You guys ruined the first good night I’ve had all year!”

With a scoff, Oikawa rolls his eyes. “I already told you that we came because you were being stupid!”

Suga whips away from the window to glare at the back of Oikawa’s head. “And _I_ already told you that I didn’t need your help!” From the mirror he can see Daichi slowly reach out to Suga, but like before, his hand is quickly slapped away. “I didn’t ask you guys to pick me up. You decided that for me.”

Undeterred, Daichi crosses his arms. “Suga, we just wanted you to be safe! Who knows what could have happened!”

Apparently raring for a fight, Suga mirrors Daichi’s movement and turns fully to face him. “You act like this is the first party I’ve ever gone to.” Which, if he didn’t see how Suga acted tonight, he probably would have assumed that it was. He’s still having a hard time believing that model-student-and-perfect-role-model Sugawara Koushi has a history with this type of crowd. “Despite what you think Daichi, I know how to take care of myself.”

Daichi doesn’t respond, and the rest of the ride is spent in silence. Neither setter says a word as Daichi heads into his own house, and Suga doesn’t object when Oikawa immediately starts heading to his own house.

As they pull into the garage and Oikawa turns the car off, he looks back at Suga. He’s less wobbly, but he has his hands pressed against his eyes and is breathing in and out shakily. Overcome with the urge to make sure his best (best? What about Iwaizumi? Well… that answers that.) friend is okay, he opens up the back passenger-side door and holds out his hand. Thankfully, Suga takes it without any resistance, and they head inside together.

They go through their usual sleepover routine, and Oikawa relaxes at the familiarity of it all, until he sees Suga pause after he puts his toothbrush back in the cup. He watches him sigh, and suddenly drop to the ground. For a moment, Oikawa panics; thoughts of his friend dying from alcohol poisoning rush through his head until he realizes that Suga has settled himself back against the tub. He looks small, drowning in one of Oikawa’s bigger sleep shirts, with his arms wrapped around his knees and his head resting on top. He gazes blankly Oikawa.

Wordlessly, he takes a seat next to Suga.

They sit in silence for a long time, until Suga moves again and lays a heavy head on his shoulder. Oikawa sighs. Unable to think of another opener, he starts, “So… You and Daichi?”

Suga tilts his head back and up to look at him, “What about Daichi?”

“You haven’t…?” he struggles to find the words.

At the sight of Suga’s confused look morph into a frown, Oikawa’s heart aches. He drapes an arm around Suga’s shoulders and, unlike all the other times he’s tried to make contact tonight, Suga scoots even closer. “You told me not to, didn’t you?”

Oikawa tenses, forcing a groan from Suga as he’s suddenly squeezed. He… He didn’t think that Suga would actually listen to him after their argument. There’s a tiny, satisfied part of him that the sudden guilt almost overshadows, but it’s still there, purring an _I told you so_ like some smug housecat.

Either he’s still too drunk to read the room, or he’s still angry and is looking for a little revenge (Oikawa is willing to bet it’s the second thing), Suga continues. “You said it was a stupid idea, so I didn’t.”

Dammit. Dammit dammit _dammit_. Suga knows exactly how to push all of his buttons. Oikawa knows that he deserves to feel bad, especially after basically cutting Suga out of his life for an entire week while he wallowed in his own regret. Suga was right last week. Oikawa _was_ projecting. Daichi _isn’t_ like Iwaizumi. Suga _does_ care about his team.

But before he can spiral any further, Suga shifts and suddenly he’s got a lap full of boy. Suga bows his head and cups his cheeks with trembling fingers; Oikawa freezes when he hears Suga take in a shaky breath. He has a feeling that he should give Suga the privacy to say what he has to say and stops himself from trying to tilt his chin up.

“Do you not like me anymore?”

He grabs Suga’s face before he even knows what he’s doing, wiping away the single tear that starts making its way down his cheek. Oikawa pulls him close and presses his lips to Suga’s forehead, cradling him like the precious thing he is, and revels in the warmth he’s missed all week. It hasn’t even been the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other, but there’s been a distance, and he knows that it’s because of him. Despite this he asks, “Why would you say that?”

A wet hiccup; Oikawa isn’t fully sure who it’s from, but Suga pulls away. “’Cause you’ve been avoiding me!” Suga sobs. “You’re treating me exactly how you said you were gon’ treat Iwaizumi.” Oikawa doesn’t respond because he knows that Suga is right on the nose. “You said you’d pull away so slowly that he won’t even notice until you haven’t talked in months—and by then it would be too late. Isn’t that what you said?” Suga weakly slams his fists against Oikawa’s chest, gripping at the fabric as he digs his tear-and-snot streaked face into the crook of Oikawa’s neck. “You weren’t supposed to do it to _me_.”

Again, despite knowing that Suga is completely correct, Oikawa can’t help but defend himself. “That’s not the same,” he murmurs, lips dragging against the sweaty skin of Suga’s forehead.

“Yes it is!” the yell is muffled since Suga still has his face buried against his neck, but Oikawa can feel the drag of Suga’s teeth and the wet heat of his breath. He squeezes again, and they stay like that for a long time until Oikawa’s eyes burn from trying to stop his tears.

Eventually, Suga pushes off of his chest and his hands take their place at his cheeks again. This time, Suga wipes away his tears. “I’m sorry, okay?” he whispers.

Oikawa stays silent and averts his eyes. In response, Suga leans in and presses a lingering kiss to the spot just under his left eye, where the beauty mark rests on his own face. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he whispers. He leans out momentarily and immediately dives back in, resting his lips on Oikawa’s forehead. “I’m sorry that I said those things.” He drags his mouth down Oikawa’s face, pressing feather-light but lingering kisses under his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, and finally the side of his mouth. “Just because I was angry, it doesn’t excuse the fact that I lashed out and hurt you.”

Suga pulls away and hovers, millimeters away from Oikawa’s lips, barely brushing against them as he finishes, “Please, let me back in.”

He doesn’t lean forward. He doesn’t press his lips to Suga’s. Instead, he threads his fingers through Suga’s hair and maneuvers him back to their previous position. He drags his nails along Suga’s scalp and waits until the other boy completely melts against him and his breathing evens out to speak. “I don’t think this is the type of conversation we should be having when you’re drunk,” he mumbles against Suga’s hair.

 _Coward_ , he hisses at himself. But apparently Suga isn’t asleep. “Then when _can_ we talk about this?” he replies slurred, more sleepy than drunk.

“Another time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been a sec since we had a text thread lol. pls enjoy like a half hour of copy/pasting html.
> 
> talk 2 me on twitter [@fujibutts](https://twitter.com/fujibutts)!!! a few of you have come along and I love all of u I love seeing yall on my tl!!!
> 
> btw sorry it's taking me so long to reply ｡ﾟ･ (>﹏<) ･ﾟ｡ as usual, if anything sounds weirdly stiff pls tell me!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: anxiety attack, mild restrictive eating habits/something that could look like an eating disorder
> 
> good songs: [I of the storm of mice and men](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlCkafSYNJI), [issues julia michaels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Ke4480MicU), and [two sleeping at last](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrDzd4ufypE)

When Oikawa wakes up, it’s still dark. Dazed and half asleep, he wonders what woke him up, until he sees the door to his bedroom slightly ajar. For a moment he freezes because his mom is away and his dad is at work—until he remembers that he’s not supposed to be home alone.

He creeps out of bed and heads to the bathroom, where he expects Suga to be, maybe a little nauseous or hungover from last night—or does it count as early this morning?

Keeping his steps quiet and the lights off, he slowly pushes the door open. Instead of the forced retching he was expecting, he hears a quiet hitched breath echo through the tiled bathroom. “Hey, are you…” he trails off as he steps through the threshold and trails off at the sight of Suga sitting in the tub, curled into a ball with his knees pulled close.

As Suga lifts his head, Oikawa feels all breath leave his body at the sight of Suga’s crumpled, tear-streaked face in the faint light of the streetlamp through the window. He rushes across the final few feet separating them to kneel by his friend, hands reaching toward him but not touching.

Apparently, his visible panic is contagious, because Suga starts crying even harder as Oikawa gets close, choked sobs gaining ground until Suga is wheezing and alternating between tugging at and pushing his hands away. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

Oikawa’s nose burns, tears threatening to well up in his eyes as well. _You can’t_ he tells himself. There’s no time for that right now. Suga’s already freaking out about something and he needs to figure out what. Once he’s calmed his friend down, then he can freak out.

He tries to comb through what could be wrong. He can’t remember Suga telling him anything earlier. Did something happen at the party before he and Daichi got there? Was he more drunk than they thought? All of the worse-than-the-worst-case-scenario possibilities rush through Oikawa’s head in a flurry. “Suga…” his pushing and pulling has lost energy, and Oikawa takes the opportunity to lay his hands on Suga’s shoulders, squeezing them gently. “Koushi please,” he tries to keep his voice as stable as possible, “why are you crying?”

Again, it seems like he’s said the wrong thing at the wrong time, because Suga jerks back. _Stupid stupid you made it worse_ his brain screams at him, but all he can do is watch in horror as Suga turns his head away from him, and bites down on the juncture of his wrist to muffle his crying.

“Kou- don’t do that!” Oikawa tugs at Suga’s arm, all hesitation at touching his friend flying out the window. His heart aches when Suga’s arm finally flies back with the force of his pull, reminding him of a similar situation a few weeks ago. Suga is still probably mostly out of it, and it take a while until his crying has slowed to weak whimpers and shuddering gasps.

Taking the opening, Oikawa rushes to the sink, dumping out the cup full of toothbrushes and quickly filling it with water. In the few seconds that he’s gone, Suga has buried his face into his knees and has curled into a tight ball again. Setting the cup on the ground nearby, Oikawa climbs into the tub and settles himself behind Suga, gently draping one arm around him and pulling him close. Surprisingly, Suga tips back easily, letting Oikawa arrange him until he’s sitting between his legs, face tucked into his neck the same way it was earlier.

When Suga’s cries slow back down to occasional hiccups, Oikawa reaches for the water and taps it against his lips. Suga takes the cup and gulps greedily; Oikawa watches his friend intently and doesn’t say a word until Suga finally pulls the empty cup away.

“Are you ready to talk?” he asks quietly.

Suga stares intently at the cup on his lap. After a long moment, he sniffs, and turns to look at Oikawa. “Are you?”

The momentary feeling of success at Suga’s response fades almost immediately into confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Earlier.” Suga pulls away slightly, tilting his head down again, “I asked you if you didn’t like me anymore and you dodged the question.” Oikawa doesn’t respond, and Suga pulls himself completely off of Oikawa’s lap on shaky hands. He settles himself on the other side of the tub, back in his original curled position. “If you’re just going to push me like you did with Iwaizumi, then can you just take me home? I’d rather leave now instead of having you pretend to be my friend.”

* * *

When he returns to school on Wednesday, Oikawa is… floating. Part of him is ecstatic because he and Suga effectively cleared the air over the long holiday weekend—he even spent the rest of Tuesday at Oikawa’s house making up for their week apart—but now it feels like he has to make up for the shitty mood he was in last week.

He won’t even mention the collateral damage on his social life due to distancing himself from Iwaizumi. Makki and Mattsun know that there’s something going on between them, but he hasn’t told them anything past him liking Iwaizumi and arguing with him about practicing alone. Nothing about his confession and subsequent promise to “get over” it—and he doesn’t think that Iwaizumi has said anything either.

It’s been nearly a month since then, and he’s been working twice as hard to make sure that no one ever catches him in such a vulnerable position. He talks to the coaches—overshares, in his opinion—about his practice schedule (again, nothing about practicing with Suga, though) and redoubles his efforts to be the captain that his team deserves.

Thankfully, Iwaizumi has been cooperative. They’ve been able to work out a system where they don’t have to talk outside of school or practice, but meet up in the club room a few times a week to plan practice and strategize for practice matches. They used to have these planning meetings at their houses, or on the walk home, but what’s done is done.

Oikawa isn’t stupid. As much as he tries to keep his personal issues separate, he knows that the team dynamic has been affected. Suga was right. He _was_ projecting. But he tries. He still goes out with the team after practice when he doesn’t have plans; he eats lunch with Makki, Mattsun, and a few other third years at their usual spot on the roof almost every day (Iwaizumi can’t say that he puts in the same effort); and he makes sure to hunt down his kouhai to make sure that they feel at home with the team at this point in the school year.

It’s just that walking home alone is lonelier now that Iwa-chan isn’t there.

Not that they walked home together on a regular basis since last year—what with Oikawa’s extra practices and Iwaizumi’s girlfriend. But just the thought that he would be walking alone… possibly forever, as dramatic as that is, is lonely.

That only lasted until the end of that week, though, until Oikawa started skipping his regular cool-down in favor of jogging along a more roundabout route home.

This week shouldn’t be as bad as last week, though, since Suga is practicing with him again. Maybe they can push the loneliness away together enough that he can start walking home on the main road again. Healing, and all that.

 _Anyway_ , he thinks as he shakes his head. It’s the third time today he’s hard to refocus himself from thinking about all of the recent drama. He tries to distract himself by absentmindedly tossing ideas for tonight’s practice around in his head.

It’s Wednesday, but he and Suga had decided to have two practice days in a row, to make up for last week’s lost time. Plus, they would be having a guest tonight.

After Oikawa confessed to returning to the gym to practice until the early hours of the morning an hour after he got home from that disastrous practice last Saturday, he and Suga had a long discussion about Oikawa’s emotion-fueled practice-binges. They agreed that Suga had been pushing himself too far past his limit (Oikawa did not agree that he was doing the same), and figured out a plan to fix both.

Suga brought up the idea of expanding their private practices. He suggested Nishinoya and Tanaka at first, since they had expressed interest in more practices and were the ones Oikawa was the most familiar with, but Oikawa had been hesitant at essentially doubling their practice roster.

Then he floated the option of inviting Azumane Asahi: Karasuno’s ace. As Suga explained the situation, Azumane had been feeling similarly to Suga: partly stressed by the thought of fighting for their last chance to go to nationals, and partly painfully insecure at competing for the chance to play against their talented kouhai.

Oikawa agreed, and can’t bring himself to be anything but excited about it. A third person—a wing spiker like him would be great to practice receives and blocks with. He tries to think back to previous matches they’ve had with Karasuno; does he remember anything specific about Azumane’s play style? The slightly untethered fogginess he had while thinking about his situation with Iwaizumi fades into an excited glow as he considers all of the benefits to practicing with their rival’s ace.

“-kawa! Oikawa!”

“Wha- Huh?” He blinks up to find Makki looking at him with an amused smile.

The other boy shakes his hand, and Oikawa looks blankly at the lump in a cupcake wrapper, “I asked if you wanted a creampuff! My sister and I made a bunch during the long weekend. They’re a little janky, since she squeezed the batter, but they’re good!”

From his other side, Mattsun nods enthusiastically, cheeks already stuffed with pastry and a bit of cream smeared on the corner of his mouth.

“Oh,” Oikawa looks between his two friends, brain struggling to catch up to what he’s seeing. Apparently he needed to refocus _again_. He shifts and feels a light weight in his lap, and snaps back to his body, suddenly very aware of the chill on his arms where he rolled up his sleeves to eat his lunch—which he apparently ate half of without even realizing he was outside eating with his friends, instead of standing at his locker, which is the last thing he remembers actively doing.

“Thanks,” he reaches out and accepts the delicate puff, “I’ll save it for dessert later.” He puts it in an empty space in his bento, and continues picking at the rest of his rice.

But then, it’s all a little too much. The rice in his mouth feels like gum and his muscles, from his shoulders to his jaw, feel exhausted. Sighing, he puts the lid back on gently, careful not to squish the creampuff.

“You’re done already?” Mattsun asks as he puts the box back in its bag. He nods.

As he grabs his bag and prepares to get up, a voice stops him in his tracks, “Where are you going? Class doesn’t start for half an hour.”

He had forgotten that Iwaizumi had been there the whole time.

Willing his knees not to shake, he stands up and tosses his bag over his shoulder. “Back to the classroom,” he answers breezily. “I have to finish the science homework that’s due today!”

Oikawa ignores the look he gets from the older boy. That was the first time Iwaizumi has eaten with them in weeks. Or, at least with Oikawa. He was so zoned out earlier that he didn’t have the chance to take his usual speedy exit when he realized that Iwaizumi was coming—which he’s done for the past month. He _had_ promised to keep some distance between them while he got over his “crush”. Not that Iwaizumi knows that it’s supposed to be a permanent distance. He had also asked Iwaizumi to stop inviting him over, and their planning sessions are the only times they see each other outside of practice anymore.

Since lunch isn’t even half over, the classroom is thankfully mostly empty. He sits at his desk, pulls out the notebook he reserves for his private and extra practice plans, and starts writing. He also takes his lunch out again, absentmindedly eating with his nondominant hand. The food still tastes bland and feels like rocks as it makes its way down his throat, but he swallows and pushes it down. That was another thing he and Suga discussed. Even if Oikawa wasn’t going to let up on the extra practice, Suga was determined to make him fuel himself properly—both with food and sleep.

That meant doing homework during the day or earlier in the evening (meaning shorter practices) so he can sleep at a reasonable hour. That also meant remembering to eat more than sweet bread and tofu. So he takes a gulp of water to help the food go down, and ignores the creampuff sitting in the corner of his lunchbox.

It won’t even fuel him, so there’s no point in trying to force it down. It’ll just make his eating time longer, which will take away from the time he has to plan practice, _and_ do his science homework. He wasn’t lying about having to get work done.

Balancing everything is difficult, he’ll admit, but it’s worth it. He’ll lead his team to nationals, he’ll have a healthy friendship with Suga, and not lose his current best friends, all the while be a model student. He can do it. Last time he stumbled, it ended in him blurting out his feelings to Iwaizumi and a three-day pit of depression. This time, he won’t let it happen again.

After lunch, the rest of the day passes the same way it has been all day, except now Oikawa is aware of the fact that he’s zoning out at least once per class period, and is quick to snap himself out of it.

Between classes, Oikawa chats with his classmates and makes sure that his reputation for being outgoing is being maintained. He talks to a few girls in the hallways as class six makes their way to P.E., waves hello and asks how any kouhai from the volleyball club how they’re doing if he sees them during break, and even shoots a few texts to Suga about their plans for tonight’s practice.

By the time practice rolls around he’s buzzing with adrenaline, anxious to work off the excess physical energy despite the exhaustion clinging to the edges of his vision.

He has his school shirt half off when, for the second time that day, Hanamaki takes him off guard. “So,” he hears from beside him. Hurriedly, Oikawa pulls his teal practice shirt so he can see his friend. “How was the creampuff?”

Oikawa freezes, remembering the bitter guilt he felt after pawning off Makki’s pastry to one of the girls that had ambushed him by his locker on his way back to class after putting away his lunch. He had meant to eat it later, really. It would have been his reward for doing well at practice. But then he thought about how the cream would probably go bad by that time, and that it would be better off with some cute girl that could really appreciate its flavor.

He smiles faintly, remembering how happy she had been. He’s not sure what her name is, but he’s pretty sure that she’s a year below them. Either way, she deserved it more than he does. “It was so yummy!” he replies, determined to let the satisfaction of one good deed carry him for as long as it can. “Bring me another next time you make them!”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes as he walks away, bouncing a volleyball as he goes, “Sure thing, Cap’!”

Free for the moment, Oikawa breathes a sigh of relief. It’s been a tense few weeks, but it feels like he’s slipped up a few too many times today. He’s thankful for Makki and Mattsun and how attentive they’ve been for months, ever since they found out that he was (is still?) in love with Iwaizumi—and even more so after Oikawa told them (part of) what happened in the gym over Summer break.

It’s almost suffocating with just how much they care. He already feels guilty enough worrying them so much.

Thankfully, when practice goes into full swing, it’s easy to put aside all of these complicated feelings. On the court, he and Iwaizumi are captain and vice-captain first, setter and ace second, and everything else third. He doesn’t have time to dedicate to failed romantic endeavors when he has a whole gym full of volleyball players who he’s supposed to bring out the best in.

The most he’ll let himself feel is the occasional twinge in his knees, the one that makes him want to wobble a bit and curl up on the court, that happens whenever he thinks about playing on a team without Iwaizumi—setting to another ace that’s not his Iwa-chan. Sure it makes him want to die a little, but there’s no way he could ever ignore that. Not when they’ve _always_ played together.

But because there’s so much else to keep track of, he can push it down. It’s just when practice starts winding down that the _anxietypanicdread_ begins to creep in again. Spring high qualifiers are next month, but it still sometimes feels like the coaches are holding him back. They returned his keys when school started back up again a few weeks ago, on the condition that he would give more responsibility to Iwaizumi and the other third years.

Despite this, at the end of practice, he walks back to the locker room with the rest of the guys, and hands the thin notebook that he was scribbling in the night before, full of suggestions for team practice to Iwaizumi, and heads back out to the gym to get some extra practice in before Suga is set to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [it hit different](https://twitter.com/fujibutts/status/1295631902171205632?s=20)
> 
> despite the shittiness, I’m too stubborn not to see this through to the end. due to grad school stuff, I’m aiming for every other Sunday for updates. I will brute-force my way through this, sorry not sorry if it ends up shittier than it currently is.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the supportive words last chapter, it makes the whole brute-forcing thing a lot easier (´• ω •`) ♡ sorry for the late chapter btw. also I put a chapter count but take it with a grain of salt bc this story was going to be 6 chapters but uh… look where we are.
> 
> song recs: [lemon boy cavetown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFJrdFyk5gs), [broken lovelytheband](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qr1-WpWOUk8), and [believer smash mouth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0mYBSayCsH0) (bonus: [sad alexander 23](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jcVw3YXdzRA)

Suga doesn’t have the chance to talk to Daichi until after morning homeroom. Unable to find anything to text the other boy about, or to even build up the courage to reach out, they haven’t spoken since Oikawa dropped him off after the party.

He feels his palms dampen involuntarily as he quickly pulls the books they need for the next class from his bag and approaches Daichi, methodically unpacking his pens and pencils from their little pouch. He doesn’t seem particularly tense or angry, but still.

“Hey,” Suga greets as he tries to nonchalantly lean on an empty neighboring desk.

He’s not sure what he expected, but he’s surprised when Daichi’s eyebrows raise and his lips curl into a surprised little o. “Suga!” he replies, mouth pulling at the edges into a slight smile. “Hey! How are you doing?”

Suga’s cheeks burn, as he remembers. “I’m good now. Thanks…” he blinks away momentarily before forcing himself to make eye contact. “Thanks for that. I’m sorry for how I acted.”

Just according to plan, Daichi’s already tentative smile falls, and he abandons his school supplies on the table. “I…”

Torn, Suga forces himself to continue, words coming out in a rush. “I know it’s no excuse, but I was really stressed and needed to let loose and took it out on you and Oikawa when it felt like you were trying to stop me.”

The classroom full of students enjoying their short break bustles around them. Suga fidgets anxiously with the strap of his bag.

For a long moment (was it really? Or was his brain just rushing too quickly to properly process the moment for the split-second it actually was?) Daichi looks at him with a heart wrenching frown. “No,” he reaches a hand toward Suga, before pulling it back. “ _I’m_ sorry.” He sighs. “I of all people should know how capable you are of taking care of yourself. I overstepped my boundaries and invited myself along when Oikawa offered to pick you up.”

Suga doesn’t reply. He knows that Daichi and Oikawa care for him. They cared enough to be worried enough about his safety to pick him up. His conversation with Oikawa the other night cleared up any possible miscommunication before it could get out of hand.

But.

It’s different, hearing Daichi paint it that way. That he overstepped his boundaries.

He must be quiet for quite a while, because the next moment, Daichi is back to unpacking his textbooks and notepads, avoiding eye contact as he mumbles, “He’s a nice guy. He really cares about you.”

Seeing no reason to do otherwise, Suga agrees. “Yeah! We spent the weekend together.” He thinks back to their Tuesday morning, spent cuddling in Oikawa’s bed and talking about the future- past what they had discussed while sitting in the tub in the early hours of the morning. “We talked a lot about what happened.” He coughs out a half-laugh, “I don’t feel like I’m floating in space anymore. He’s honestly my best friend.”

He smiles, the first genuinely _joyful_ smile he’s been able to give in a while. Daichi looks like he wants to say more, but students are starting to take their seats, and Suga knows they don’t have much time left.

“So uh,” to his surprise, Daichi pushes on. “How did you guys even become friends?”

Suga’s eyes widen as he blushes, frantically darting his gaze around the room. “Um, we…” he sighs and forces himself to look toward Daichi. He focuses on a point just to the left of Daichi’s head, but it’s good enough. “We actually bonded because we had crushes on people, and we’d vent about it to each other.

Daichi’s face contorts enough that Suga can’t help but look at him; but he can’t quite tell what it means. “Oh, a crush?”

His heart pounds. In his periphery, he can see that about half of their classmates are sitting at their seats. His palms feel clammy, and he’s sure that he just felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his thigh. Suga still isn’t sure what Daichi’s expression means, but he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he never has to make that heartbroken little pout ever again.

“Y-Yeah,” Suga curses himself for the shakiness in his voice. “Um. Yeah, I— about that I—”

“Hey Sugawara, can I slip past? I just need to grab…” Suga jumps, and Kenta, the owner of the desk he’s still leaning on is standing next to him.

Looking between Daichi and Kenta, he struggles to put together any coherent sentence, before giving up and nodding. Without a word he waves goodbye to Daichi and scurries, tail between his legs, back to his desk.

Class passes by in a haze of scribbled notes and garbled English. He’s never been great at foreign languages, but at Daichi is, and he’s always been happy to share his notes.

After the teacher walks out, Suga sits at his desk, pondering over his still packed schedule, trying to find some place to fit in more study time. He doesn’t notice Daichi until the other boy is bent over his shoulder, chin grazing the fabric of his uniform jacket.

Daichi whistles, making Suga jump back in surprise. “Looks rough. You ready for the exam next week?”

Suga clutches at his chest, willing his heart to slow down a bit, before spilling himself across his desk like a limp pile of goo. “There’s just not enough time…” he sighs. “At least he gave us a warning instead of having a pop quiz.”

He feels a _warmheavyhot_ hand on his back, patting him a few times between the shoulder blades before settling there. He weakly turns his head to see Daichi with his bag already slung over his shoulder, ready to head to their next class. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and it feels like the warmth from his hand is spreading down, through Suga’s skin, “you’re one of the hardest workers I know.”

Slowly, so he doesn’t dislodge Daichi’s hand from his back, Suga sits up. “Thanks.” He begins gathering his stuff, trying to keep his fingers from fully giving into the anxious staticky numbness that had been so present last week. “Um, about that…”

“Hmm?” Daichi’s hand twitches against his back; Suga catalogs how it feels through the fabric and faintly imagines how it would feel directly against his skin.

“Um, before class— when I got cut off—” Suga coughs, and feels the weight on his back falter, like Daichi is about to pull away. “I was wondering if… you maybe wanted to study together on Friday? Maybe we could get food after practice?”

From his angle, still sitting at his desk and Daichi leaning on his desk neighbor’s desk in a hilarious parallel of their positions before class, Daichi’s expression doesn’t change. “That sounds nice,” he smiles.

Suga sighs in relief and opens his bag resisting the urge to just sweep all of the items on his desk into its open pouch. But because he knows neither Daichi nor future-Suga will appreciate that, he does it properly.

Beside him, Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh. “Haah, I never realized being captain meant spending so much money buying meat buns! We’re lucky coach Ukai gives such a generous discount.”

A sudden chill runs down Suga’s back. Did he… misunderstand?

“Ah, actually...” Suga zips the bag shut and turns to Daichi fully, standing up to his full height. “I was thinking we could get dinner with just the two of us?”

“Huh?”

He did. Good job Suga, never underestimate the power of communication.

“Like a date?” he clarifies.

Before his eyes Daichi’s face goes from its usual tan coloring, to sickly pale, to bright red in the span of seconds. Or Suga just experienced a mild breakdown and hallucinated it all. “Oh,” he chokes out.

Suddenly very aware of how close they are, Suga panics. “I—” but he cuts himself off before he can do any more possible damage.

Daichi is still cherry red, cheeks as pink as Suga’s was a few days ago. Behind him, Suga sees their classmates start to file out of the room. Even in the loud din of students talking and making plans for lunch, Suga can’t focus on any sound other than the blood rushing in his ears. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Suga remembers that he has to pick up his math book from his locker before their next class, and the longer they stand here frozen, the more likely he’ll be late for class. But. He can’t bring himself to move.

It feels like an eternity; Suga feels like he’s just about to bust out of his skin vibrating with unchecked anxiety, when Daichi finally speaks.

“Are… you asking me _out_ out?”

Conscious of how tight his throat is, and how he knows that if he even attempts to form any words, his voice will break like it did back in middle school, Suga nods.

“I…” Daichi gapes, unlinking. “Yes.” Suga’s brain short circuits. “Yes! I’d love to!”

It’s not until they’re walking through the door of their next class, smiling whenever their shoulders bump every few steps, that Suga remembers that he forgot his book in his locker.

* * *

Even after just a few short days, Suga feels the strain of practice. On one hand, he feels almost energized, with the extended break from extra practices with Oikawa; but on the other, he feels more strained than usual, kind of out of practice after almost a week and a half of lighter practices. Either way, he feels slightly guilty at how excited he is for what Oikawa has in store for practice tonight.

Sure, he felt a little weird, leaving all of the work of planning practice to Oikawa, but the other setter seemed so excited at the prospect of working with another player that it took a bit of convincing for Oikawa to let Suga pass along some of notes Yachi and Kiyoko have taken on Asahi during practice.

It feels like electricity is buzzing right under his skin, and for once, it hasn’t come with an undercurrent of nausea.

It feels like everything is going _good_ and going _right_ , and he doesn’t have the feeling that it’s all going to come crashing down in a week or two.

He and Daichi walk to practice at the end of the day, shoulders knocking together and pinkies brushing. They smile and gaze into each other’s eyes, and Suga winks at Asahi when he shoots them a knowing look.

(Daichi just blushes and turns away.)

It doesn’t seem like any of the first or second years notice anything different, but both Asahi and Kiyoko smile at them more than usual.

Other than that, practice goes as normal as it usually does, with their rowdy kouhai. Kageyama and Hinata fight to stay, Tanaka and Nishinoya jump at the chance to play a bit more, and Daichi sighs at him wearily.

As much as he wants to stay with Daichi (he’s not sure what Daichi is to him now. Boyfriend seems a little too serious. Potential boyfriend? Future date-partner? Suga knows that he’ll just have to wait and see what they end up being, but he won’t front—he’s been doodling _Sugawara Daichi + Sawamura Koushi_ in his notebook margins since first year), he and Asahi have somewhere to be.

“Hey,” he nudges Asahi with his knee. “You ready for tonight?”

The taller boy, sitting on the floor of the gym and breathlessly suckling from his water bottle looks up at Suga. He finishes swallowing the water before replying, “Ah—um, yeah.”

Suga takes note of the bottle compressing under Asahi’s fingers. The plastic pulsates as he taps a familiar rhythm that Suga recognizes as one to soothe his anxiety. “Hey Suga, um…” he mumbles after a few moments of fidgeting with the bottle, “Are you sure that this is really okay?”

From his position a few feet up, Suga feels like a father, or a teacher, and Asahi is a bashful student, anxious at joining a new club or meeting new people. Suga nudges him again, “Of course!” he reassures his friend, and smiles as wide as he can. “I suggested it, and Oikawa’s so excited to practice with a spiker that he’s been texting be all day about drills we could run!”

At the prospect of new drills, Asahi seems to relax. Suga watches him for a moment, shoulders lowering ever so slightly as he dabs at his forehead.

Suga zones out for a bit, internally patting himself contentedly on the back for a job well done calming his friend down, but then he hears his name called from across the gym. He turns to see Daichi jogging towards them, completing their trio.

“Are you guys staying? I think the first and second years are gonna stay back for another hour.”

He looks at Daichi’s hopeful face, and something in Suga’s heart aches. As much as he wants to spend more time with Daichi… The ache doesn’t feel like longing; it feels like the disappointment he felt when they lost to Seijou in the Inter High.

Suga sighs and shrugs, “Maybe for a bit?” he asks with an apologetic smile. “We—” he gestures to Asahi, still on the floor, “We’re actually uh, headed to Seijou for practice.”

Daichi’s eyebrows raise in mild surprise. “Oh?”

He hears Asahi’s shoes squeak before the tall boy tells Suga he’ll wait outside, breaking the tension before it can set in.

Shaking the remnants away, Suga shrugs, “Yeah. Oikawa and I were talking, and I suggested bringing in more people.” He sees Daichi’s lips flatten and turn down into a slight frown, “To keep us accountable, you know?” Suga rushes to keep him from fully frowning. As much as he wants to improve, he’s still a lovesick teenage boy; he only has so much resolve. “It’s so we don’t push ourselves too hard like we were before!”

Despite Suga’s completely bulletproof reasoning, Daichi doesn’t look like he completely accepts it. Eventually, he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh. “Uh have fun I guess?”

Searching for any hint to figure out what Daichi is feeling other than _bad_ , Suga steps closer. Steeling himself, he reaches out and rests a hand on Daichi’s shoulder. “Are you upset with me?”

Immediately, Daichi’s face softens, and Suga fights the urge to blush when Daichi reaches his arm across his body to rest his hand on top of Suga’s. “No!” he says loudly enough that he flinches and darts a quick glance around the gym. To Daichi’s relief, the people who decided to stay are completely distracted. “Of course not!” he adds quietly.

With a sigh of relief, he squeezes Daichi’s arm, trying to distract himself with the feeling of strong muscle underneath his jacket, but can’t help but try to justify himself even more. “It’s just...” Suga runs his free hand through his hair, “I invited Asahi because I knew he felt similarly, you know? Like what we talked about last time. About the younger guys.”

Suga almost jumps in surprise when Daichi pulls his hand off, and absolutely melts when Daichi cradles his hand between both of his, stroking the back of his knuckles with his thumbs. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “that’s totally understandable. I just get worried.”

Fully aware that his face is probably blazing red, Suga pushes the insecure, anxious, infatuated, and embarrassed feelings as far aside as he can, and winks. “I promise I’ll stay in tip-top shape, captain!”

That appears to completely dissolve any remaining tension left over from earlier, and Daichi outright _laughs_ , loud enough that Suga notices a few of their teammates turn towards them. Suga shrugs and giggles as well, spurred on by Daichi’s laughter until they’re both doubled over.

When their fit passes, Daichi squeezes his hand again before letting go. “You’d better get going, right?”

Suga nods and salutes with another wink, “I’ll text you!” he yells as he jogs out of the gym.

Daichi ♥  
  
**Today** , 18:24  
**Suga:** bus took a while but we're here now ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶  
  
**Suga:** I'll text when we're done  
  
19:47  
**Daichi:** Finally dragged them away from the gym!  
  
**Daichi:** Would've been easier if you were here though  
  
**Daichi:** Hope practice is going well for you!  
  
**Today** , 20:49  
**Suga:** Practice was great!  
  
**Suga:** °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°  
  
**Suga:** Surprisingly oikawa and asahi got along super well!  
  
**Daichi:** That's great! But I'm kind of jealous it seems like half our team likes Oikawa more than me ;)  
**Suga:** I'll just have to convince you otherwise then (･ω<)☆  
**Daichi:** (//▽//)  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh this chapter was going to be completely different. it was going to focus on oikawa’s family and suga and whatever but I decided we’ve waited long enough for daisuga to happen. Still, heres the  
> [wholeass backstory](https://cacearo.tumblr.com/post/628580437899476992/oikawa-fam-backstory) I made for the oikawas :,)
> 
> [playlist link coming soon](xxx)


End file.
